


Batman Novella: Riddler's Gambit

by TowerofBabel



Series: Tales of the Bat Family [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Multi, Some nudity and sexual innuendo, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowerofBabel/pseuds/TowerofBabel
Summary: When The Riddler escapes from Arkham, all hell breaks loose, and the Batfamily must battle his newest plot, teaming up with the mastermind who has financed other criminal enterprises. But when all of Gotham is in jeopardy threatened with a new neuro-weapon, can anything be done? Sequel to Joker's Folly.





	1. The Admirer

Edward Nygma sat brooding in his prison cell in Arkham Asylum.

It was dank and dirty, cold and small, but what was comfort to a place built to house some of the worse and devious criminals known in a highly, Industrial megalopolitan like Gotham City?

Nygma wore a drab, orange jumper, that reminded him of a fruit. He missed his dark green, but flashy Question Mark dapper suit and bowler hat. Clothes made the man, and his clothes struck fear into the germane masses. But in here, this hell hole, he looked like everyone else, and it had become the main reason for his own mood.

The guards were stupid. They had a book of riddles that were child's play to him, but to the guards, it took a great deal of brain matter to even decipher the simplest of riddles that an intelligent five year old could guess.

And they would often ask him for the answer when it was not apparent to their feeble minds.

But to stave off boredom, he would play with them, and offer them clues to get the answer. The drawback to that was they would hold back meals and privileges if he wouldn't tell them.

Another drawback, the guards would ask him for riddles, and knowing their pee-size, presbyterian minds, he would have to give them children riddles, so they would feel smart when they figured them out, and then praise them, appeasing their egos. But he would also give them hard ones, because he enjoyed watching them vent over the answers. He had to have some fun.

Every once in a while, he would get a letter that would lift his spirits. It was from an admirer, and one who challenged him with riddles that taxed even Nygma to the point that he would mull over them for days—not the riddles, but the ciphers hidden within. So, he would have to figure out the cipher, hidden in the riddles, to get the true real understanding of the letter.

Of course, his letters were always opened before they were given to him. It was policy, but his admirer wrote the letters in such a smart way, that they it tricked the guards, even the Warden, into making them believe they were just 'fan letters'. And there was nothing wrong with that.

Nygma waited for his admirer's letters. At first, they came randomly, then monthly, but most recently, weekly, and today was the day one would be arriving. Friday was mail call.

However, time had passed for his letter to arrive, and he was getting upset, because he had still not received it. And that's why he brooded in his cell. The guards had obviously opened his letter first and were now trying to figure out the riddle.

The riddle was nothing. It was the cipher, Nygma wanted.

He heard a noise from outside his cell door. The door was metallic and electrified, and supposedly escape proof. His cell was located on the highest level, maximum security, in Arkham. The lock disengaged, and the door opened. He saw two guards standing on either side of the door. The more heftier one of the pair, in his hand, was his letter, opened, and partially crumpled.

Nygma frowned. He hated when they did that. And it had not been the first. It ruined from the feel of his admirer's care for his work.

"It is disingenuous to read personal mail, gentleman," Nygma said, "and quite, factually, a criminal offence. I wish to remind you again, a letter for me is one of the only things I do favour in being in this dreary place!"

"Look at him," the heftier guard said, "big man on campus, telling us what to do?" He crumbled the letter fully. "You'll get your fan letter when we are done with it, Edward."

The other guard, a thinner one, cast his eyes away. When the heftier one wasn't partnered with him, he was more civil, and quite inquisitive. Once, he even asked Nygma about one of Riddler's adventures against Batman. Nygma was pleased to tell him, and he listened just like a school boy.

The thing guard carried a shotgun, while the heftier one had a sidearm on his belt. Nygma had no wish to qualm with them, so he took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"Very well, gentlemen," he said. "Would you care to read me my letter? I assume it contains another fascinating riddle that boggles your mind, does it not?"

He also wagered there was a cipher just for him within. And judging by all the other letters, a dozen in all, it may also be the last. The last clue to the bigger picture of what his admirer was trying to tell him. He wanted it, he wanted to read it, to figure it out. He needed conclusion, resolution, and solace. Although, when thinking about it, he pretty much knew what the cipher was going to say anyway.

"Sorry, Edward," the thin guard said. "We have orders not to give this letter to you." His tone was almost sympathetic.

Edward gave him a hard, narrowed stare, as he sat on his bunk. "Any why not? It's mine, give it to me!" He wasn't upset about the letter, per se, but he wanted that last cipher. It was crucial to him, wanting to solve the ultimate riddle within his admirer had sent him over the last couple of months. He needed it, like an addiction.

"He isn't here yet?" said the thin guard. "This wasn't our decision."

"Who isn't here yet?" Edward's angry faltered with the inquiry.

"Your secret admirer," the heftier guard said with a crooked smirk. "The great author to all these wonderful riddles. He's meeting with the Warden as we speak, this Adam Nichols. He says he wants to met you, saying that this will be his last letter."

Nygma wasn't surprised, he knew this would be the last letter. "My admirer is here to see me? I doubt the Warden will allow it. This is a maximum security prisoner, after all."

"Well, he's here, and Nichols is going through the basic security checks. But I don't know why. Most of his riddles are duds."

"That's because your adroitness is second only to your dimwittedness," Nygma replied, not even bothering to disguise his annoyance.

Nygma then mused to himself. Why would his admirer visit him at all? His letters and hereto corresponding responses were enough. Was the letter in the hefty guard's hand merely a prop to an end? And Nichols has the real letter? No, that would be suspicious.

He calmed himself. He knew his admirer, Adam Nichols, would not disappoint him. His ciphers were a means to an end, and Nygma wished to know the endgame.

And the final riddle.

The elevator at the end of the floor dinged and two men stepped out, one was the Warden and another an armed guard. A third man exited the elevator after them, and Nygma, his view of the elevator a straight-shot from his cell, was opened up, when the guards at his cell door separated to greet the others.

Adam Nichols was a tall, young, think looking man, brown hair, with octagonal glasses, and was dressed in a plaid-checked suit, which struck Nygma as quirky. It was almost as if, Adam Nichols, purposely wore the suit to draw attention to himself, and made it appear that it was not his normal attire. It did look big on him. It also made him look nerdy.

"Get up!" the hefty guard ordered Nygma, as Adam Nichols drew near.

Nygma did so, without reservation. He was curious about his admirer. And yet, he was also embarrassed for the young man for his dreadful attire. It almost made Nygma laugh. His letters showed such intelligence, but now to see that this person was the one who offered him such brain-teasers off-set Nygma's image of the man, and he questioned his wonder of the man.

And yet, looks can be deceiving. Not many people could pull off the ciphers within riddles like this young man could. It bordered on genius.

Nygma waited for Nichols to draw closer, then said, "Good afternoon," he greeted cordially.

"Good evening, Mr. Nygma," Nichols said with a boyish smile, stopping near. "I wager they don't allow you to see the time of day often. It's nearly dusk."

Nygma made no reply. He only got one hour a day out of his cell for recreational activities.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Nichols started again. "When the Warden agreed to allow correspondence with those within Arkham Asylum, under strict supervision, a pen-pal exchange, I was excited to be matched up with you." Nichols smiled shyly, scratched a finger to his temple. "No, I tell a fib. I requested you, because I find you so fascinating; not for your criminality, but for your intellect. You see, I own a small games store called Mastermind Toys that caters to gifted children, and very rare do I come across people with such calibre as yourself."

_Flattery, and a fan crush, how cute_ , Riddler thought humorously. "Thank you for your letters and the riddles," he said. "The content was fascinating and the riddles, I must admit, were somewhat interesting. I appreciate the effort that went into them."

They shared a moment's glance, and for a moment, Nichols eyes quickly blinked, in a weird sequence, as if giving morse code. Nygma instantly caught it.

Nichols then smiled. "I also waited eagerly for your responses," he said. "Your brain is wired for puzzles and abstract thinking. Often, when we are children, we are taught logic is the only method to live our lives. But, in truth, we must think outside the box to live happier lives. Corresponding with you helped brighten a rather mundane existence. That is why I wanted to thank you in person, with special permission from the Warden. And I wanted to give you…"

Suddenly, Nichols frowned when he saw his letter crumbled up in the hefty guard's hand. "Is that my letter, sir? Why would you ruin it in such a disrespectful matter? Is this policy, Warden?"

The Warden said no, and scolded the guard, and asked for the letter, then straightened it out as best he could before passing it to Nichols. Nichols straightened it out even more, but looked upset that his work already had the look of a read newspaper, put back together without a care for the next person to read it.

Nichols looked somewhat satisfied. "Unfortunately, this will be my final letter, sadly. The pen-pal exchange program is ending, I was told. Budget cuts?" The Warden nodded. He turned back to Nygma. "And I wish to read my final correspondence to you personally, so I can receive a response, as you would not be able to write back, I'm afraid. I am privileged to be here."

Nygma felt admired. He stood up straighter. He wished to hear the letter.

With additional straighten of his letter, Nichols said, "May I read the letter?"

"Go ahead, Mr. Nichols," the Warden said. "But once you receive an answer, you will be escorted from Arkham. This is highly unorthodox to say the least. But, thanks to your sizeable donation to the police fund, you were gifted this special thank-you. And besides, the guards enjoy your zingers. They get a kick out of them."

Nichols smiled humbly. "I'm glad they are enjoyed," he said. He gave another series of quick blinks of his eye lids to Nygma. Nygma followed it with a few of his own to acknowledge, he hoped his morse code was up to snuff. "This is not a letter, but merely a riddle, as I knew I would be coming here today. Pay close attention to the words, Mr. Nygma. Once you've heard the riddle, kindly, if willing, give me an answer. I'm eager to see if I can stump the great Riddler."

Nygma laughed short. "No one has yet done so, and I doubt you will be that person, Mr. Nichols, but your attempts have been amusing. Please, go ahead."

Nichols cleared his throat. There was a semi-quietude in the place as he began:

"Forever the nigh, heed my calling,  
To speak this mystery, epee at hand.  
I need not imbue my nature, firstly;  
Thrice you listen to elope.

What Am I?"

Nygma smirked cleverly. "Oh, you are 'my saviour'."

"Exactly!" Nichols replied. "Killem' both! Now!" he shouted, fisting the hefty guard in the arm.

Nichols stepped back, and the hefty guard with the sidearm quickly pulled it out of its holster and shot both the accompanying guards, shooting the one who came with the Warden in the chest and his partner in throat. Then he picked up the shotgun and pointed it at the Warden. There was a moment's hesitation, but then he fired. The Warden was launched, thrown back like a projectile, and then dropped like a stone. The guard's killing spree was strategic, almost robotic in fashion, as if he was being controlled.

"Thank you, Officer," Nichols said with an arrogant tone. "You are released."

The hefty guard nodded, then took his own life, putting the shotgun to his mouth, and pulling the trigger. His bloody, headless corpse dropped. Prisoners in other cells cheered at the carnage.

Riddler was shocked, but it was not unexpected. When Nichols recited the riddle, he quickly deciphered the message within. It was both a message and a command, but the command was not for him. How and when Nichols' managed to 'program' the guard was an intriguing question.

"Quick! Our escape is here!"

Nichols pointed to a brick wall, apart from any cell, and suddenly, it exploded with a force that could only be delivered by something attached or just recently thrown at it. They were far enough away from any blast and the debris that came spewing inwards.

Nichols waved smoke away, and stepped over the rumble to the hole in the wall, as alarms blared. His hair whipped in the wind, as he ripped off his false face.

"How?" Riddler asked curiously.

Nichols smiled. His real face that of a man a little older and more mature, partially revealed behind latex and a wig. "I'll explain everything later! Come here, we're going to jump!"

Riddler went to the hole in the wall, stepping over the debris, and looked down. Within a minute, more guards would be on top of them, and would apprehend them both, attempting to escape, adding years to Nygma's sentence.

Nygma took at Nichols dumbfounded. "Are you crazy? It's too high! There is water down there in the form of a moot, a deterrent for would-be escapees, and around that is an electric fence. But the fall will snap our neck instantly when we hit the water!"

"As one says when you are about to do something foolish and reckless," Nichols said: "There's a method to my madness. Trust me, Edward. Reinforcements are close at hand." He pointed, and just then, two points of light began to emerge from the sinking, yellow sky. Two flying discs with pilots emerged into sight, with control panels attached out front.

Nygma heard the elevator doors ding open behind them and militarized orders to secure the area. Other prisoners shouted: "Take me with you!". Nygma knew more guards were also be coming up an adjacent stairway, blocking both standard access points of escape.

"Halt! Or we'll shoot!" came the order.

But Nichols ignored it, and pushed Nygma out the hole. Nygma screamed, more like swore at Nichols, as Nichols followed him, as they fell, mostly likely to their certain deaths. The water racing up towards him, or he falling down towards it. Either way, the effect was the same.

Then the two flying disc whisked in with their anti-gravity pad, and caught them both, one in each flying disc, the pilot helping each to their feet. Nygma was told to wrap his arms around the pilot for security, and Nichols did the same. The discs turned swiftly, and soared into the sunset, like an old Western cowboy movie. Only here, the bad guys had won the day.

And as the guards fired at them from the hole in the prison wall, two lasers ejected from the back of each flying disc at their attackers, hindering their retaliatory efforts, and covering their escape.

_To be continued..._

 


	2. Multiple Crime Scenes

A few hours later, the crime scene remained untouched when Batman and Robin arrived. The Gotham City Police Department were asked by Commission Gordon to give the Dynamic Duo full authoritative access to the scene.

While the police were diligent, Batman wanted to assess the crime scene for himself before it was contaminated, because it involved one of the Rogues. Therefore, the prison level was completely on lock down. Gotham's finest we're present to keep the peace, per se. It was a miracle that none of the other prisoners had escaped with Riddler, considering the damage. However, it appeared merely localized to one area.

Prisoners in their cell on this level shouted death threats to both Batman and Robin, but both took them in stride. Robin (Damian) even gave one of the more loud-mouth and fowl-mouth prisoner's the finger. This rattled the prisoner and he banged on his door, shouting: "When I get out of here, I'm going to shove that katana right up your ass!" Damian's weapon of choice was a katana sword that he had strapped to his back.

Batman gave Robin a scolding look and the taunting was stopped. A guard banged on the prisoner's cell door with a fist and told him to quiet down, or get punished.

As both Batman and Robin examined the area and the remains of the dead guards, Commissioner Gordon went over to Batman, and said, "We found the Warden barely clinging to life when he was found him on the floor, shot by the guard's shotgun. He's now in stable condition, taken to the hospital."

Batman acknowledged the information with a nod, and a grunt, and then proceeded with further examination of the crime scene. It was not like he was trying to be unsympathetic, but the magnitude of this prison break was dire and concerning, especially because it happened at Arkham Asylum and the prison had a reputation of being one of the most secure location in the world, housing the worse of the worse.

There was definitely going to be an investigation in how all this happened without someone cluing in.

Robin ignored everything but the crime scene. Damian went to stand on a pile of debris and looked out over the prison level as if he was a king of the world. Closed fists on his hips, he had an unpleasant disposition. He had the look of someone who actually hoped there was more to see, other than a bomb scene. Coming from the _League of Assassins_ , run by his grandfather Ra's-al-Ghul, and his mother Talia-al-Ghul, he had experienced more thrilling things than this. Even other crime scenes that he and Batman he visited were more exciting.

Batman went to the hole in the side of the prison wall. The depth of the drop was enormously high and no one could survive into the moat below. But somehow both Nygma and his partner did.

The first question was how. The answer, they had help. The next question was by whom? That remained unknown.

Robin was given something by a police officer. Gordon was present. "This is the remains of a drone fished out of the moat we just found," the officer said. "We suspect it was attached to a bomb that blew up the exterior wall when it was remotely detonated."

Robin turned it over. "That would correspond to the blast pattern, inwards, with enough C-4 to take it out of a small car. How did someone get so much firepower without us knowing? I thought you-know-who was looking after that?" It was a question to Batman.

They both knew that it was Jason's job to hunt down illegal weapons and munitions in Gotham City. Despite his eccentric way of getting things done, he was allowed some latitude in his harsh methods. The cardinal rule stood firm: No Killing. But this had obviously slipped through his radar.

Robin said, "Thanks." Then he grumbled under his breath: "Stupid Todd!"

Commissioner Gordon gave Damian a look of admonishment. He knew who Batman was, and every one within the Batfamily. His daughter was Batgirl, after all, and was in a relationship with Dick Grayson, Nightwing. Damian saw this look, and immediately cast his face away. The man could have a mean demeanour sometimes, just like Bruce Wayne, Damian's father, when he wanted to.

Batman stepped forward, and Robin gave him the remains of the mangled remains of the drone. It appeared to be only a quarter of the whole device, charred and black. He examined it, but there was little to go on.

Batman eyed the dead guards on the floor. It was a murder-suicide. But was the guard who shot both the other ones and the Warren part and parcel of the prison break, or was he an unwitting pawn?

It wouldn't be the first time someone had manipulated an Arkham prison guard through mind control, drug induced or otherwise.

Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, had managed to escape in a similar fashion, by forging a chemical concoction using everyday kitchen ingredients to create a mind control drug. Then he used it to control a guard to allow him to escape. Batman caught Crane five days later.

Things wouldn't be wrapped until a GPD forensics report was done, but it appeared fairly obvious what happened, and this time, it was subliminal mind control. A command or phrase said to trigger control.

Batman asked, "Any background information on Riddler's partner?"

Gordon said, "He is an unknown, as far as a criminal background is concerned. He owned a hobby shop in the commercial district called _Mastermind Toys_. His name is Adam Nichols, but we figure that maybe an alias now. This store sold all kinds of interesting toys, catering mostly to smart, rich kids."

"Sold?" Robin asked.

"Yes, and we just got word that the store ignited in flames. It exploded, unknown cause."

"Exploded? With what? C-4?" Robin was intrigued by the turn of events, he looked up at Batman. "It's a classic criminal tactic to cover up one's tracks to get rid of any evidence."

Batman agreed, he then put a hand to his ear, and spoke into a com-link in his cowl. "Nightwing?"

But before Batman could even get an additional word out, Nightwing said, " _Can't talk right now, Batman. I'm in the commercial district, and a hobby store just exploded. I was in the area, so I came to see if I could be of any help. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do. They say it was a gas leak._ "

"Keep me posted."

" _Right._ "

The communication ended.

Tim Drake then chimed in through the com-link system, he had overheard everything. He was currently viewing the CCTV cameras via the Batcave of Arkham Asylum, watching footage of what happened on Batman's current level. He had been given access.

" _Crappy system, Batman, no sound," Drake said. "But Nichols read something to Nygma just before the wall exploded. I think he was holding a letter. Did you find it?_ "

"Negative, he must have taken it with him," Batman replied.

"Everyone's mail is read beforehand, Batman," Commission Gordon said. "I'm told the last letter was a riddle. Nygma has received nearly a dozen letters from Nichols, we only have the first five; the rest are missing. These were found in Nygma's cell, but none of us know the answers to them. Nichols obviously took the last letter with him. Nygma may have destroyed the rest."

"Do you have them?" Batman asked.

A police Lieutenant handed them over when asked. Batman quickly read through each one and answered each in succession. They were clever, but not that astute.

"I would like to take these with me."

"Of course, we made copies for our records," Commission Gordon said.

With little else that could be done, the Dynamic Duo left and allowed the GPD to take over the scene.

Once in the Batmobile, and the canopy secure, Drake's face popped up on the screen in the dash. "Interesting riddles," he said. "You answered them quickly, I'm impressed."

Damian held the five letters, then scratched his head. "I don't get how you answered them so fast."

"Elementary, my dear, Damian," Drake responded instead.

"Shut up, Drake, I was speaking to father, and don't call me _dear_."

"It would appear Nygma has an ally in the riddle game," Batman said. "Each riddle has four lines that are incredibly complex and obviously a challenge for even an astute mind. However the riddles are only a façade."

"I've analyzed the CCTV video of Arkham and used a program to extrapolate lip/word movement, and I believe I know what Adam Nichols said when he recited the final riddle before the wall exploded." Drake mused for a moment. "But one or more words maybe off, I'm not perfect. Lip reading is not an exact science."

"We need an exact translation, Drake, not excuses!" Damian said matter-of-factly, annoyed.

"I know!" Drake responded defensively, partaking similar animosity towards Damian. Damian and Drake had a dislike for one another. Damian insisted Drake relinquish any association with the Batfamily and leave everything to him, as he was Bruce Wayne's blood son. Drake was only adopted. But Drake remained, not to annoy Damian, but because Dick Grayson wanted him to. He was an asset to the team. "I'll keep running the video through the program. Drake out!" Drake stuck out his tongue out at Damian before the screen went dark.

Damian leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "He gets on my nerves!"

"Get along, Damian," Batman said. "He's one of us, not the enemy. You two have your differences, but one day you may need his help in the gravest of circumstances. So, don't burn your bridges."

Damian huffed annoyed, then looked at Batman. "So, should we join Grayson at the hobby store/barbeque?"

Batman grunted displeasure at the comment, before he ignited the Batmobile jet engine, and blasted off.

"Hey, you can warn me first!"

Damian struggled to get his seatbelt on or risk of being bounced every which way as the Batmobile made its sharp turns.

"Safety first," was all Batman replied.

x x x

Nightwing had arrived in the thick of things.

He thought he heard a large noise echo through the cavernous urban jungle of Gotham. Sound carried in the city when the wind was blowing a certain direction and a person could hear things that took place a few miles afar. He came to the scene expecting to see a car crash or something alike. It was only when he heard something about an explosion on the police band radio, when he realized how serious it was.

The fire department was busy with the chaos, putting out the hobby storefront's fire. Obviously the first thing done was to shut off the gas supply and judging by the water at full blast, this had to be done from an exterior source. The flames were slowly burning out, exhausted by the water. But there were plumes of smoke bellowing across the neighbourhood landscape, shadowed by a moonlit sky.  
It was pretty bad. The whole street was cordoned off with police cruisers, and no traffic was allowed in or out, cops were on either side of the street, and stopping traffic at a safe distance.

The hobby shop was on the ground level of a two-story building and the storefront was completely obliterated. Whatever happened was going to be investigated thoroughly.

This business was associated with Riddler's partner, who committed the break prison. It was safe to say this was no accident. This was deliberate.

Unfortunately, there was nothing more he could do but watch. And if there was any evidence, it was completely gone now. Adam Nichols, an alias, no doubt, covered his tracks well. Nightwing figured that it was probably not his real name, and the business was fake, too.

The authorities only had the name Adam Nichols to go on. He just hoped that Tim Drake could work his techno-magic and produce a working profile with what information Batman had collected at Arkham Asylum.

The kid was an expert in hacking and techno-science. He was a smart kid and a suitable partner to have around. When Nightwing donned the Batman cowl, he chose Damian as his sidekick, because he considered Tim his equal. If push came to shove, Tim could handle his own. Damian had a lot more growing to do, and maturing.

Using a small radio in his ear, he called Batman.

"Nightwing to Batman, I'm at the scene of _Mastermind Toys._ There's nothing left. If there's any evidence, it will have to be sifted through after the fire has been extinguished. What do you want me to do?"

" _Meet us back at the Batcave,_ " Batman replied through the com-link. " _For now, we have letters sent to Edward Nygma from Adam Nichols. We can look them over for additional clues. I can only assume this is the beginning of a larger plot._ "

"And that's the big riddle," Nightwing said back.

Nightwing heard Damian groan after the joke over the com-link before it was shut off.

Nightwing smirked before firing off a tether line from his grappling gun, and then swung into the night, leaving the Gotham City Fire Department to finish their work unabated.

_To be continued..._

 


	3. Enigma

  
The Batmobile pulled up onto the platform in the Batcave and parked. As soon as the canopy slid back, Robin hopped out, followed by Batman.

“Welcome back!” Tim Drake greeted, in costume but unmasked. He sat at the Batcomputer, and had been analyzing the CCTV footage of the prison break.

“So, got it yet?” Damian said, almost like a demand than a question, as he went to the computer. “Or, do I have to call an expert?”

Drake curled his lip in annoyance. “I am the expert, you little piece of…” He stopped himself from saying anything further. Drake hated bad language.

Batman pulled back his cowl, revealing his face. Bruce Wayne gave both of them a hard stare. “No infighting, this is not the time!”

Both Damian and Drake agreed, with one final retort from Drake of: “He started it,” his voice trailing off, as he turned to focus solely on his project. “Well, I have as much as I can get from this poor surveillance system. However, I do believe I have it all. This is what Adam Nichols recited from his letter.”

He read the riddle:

“ _Forever the nigh, heed my calling,_  
_To speak this mystery, epee at hand._  
_I need not imbue my nature, firstly;_  
_Thrice you listen to elope._  
  
_What Am I?_ ”  
  
Damian cupped his hips. “Quite the riddle,” he said, looking over Drake’s shoulder, but he didn’t venture a guess. “How did Riddler respond?”  
  
“Giving up already?” Drake said. “Not even going to try to reason it out?”  
  
Bruce’s mouth moved silently as he read the riddle with a hand to his mouth in thought. “Very complex,” Bruce finally said, as the condensation arguing began between the young pair. They stopped as soon as he spoke. “But the answer can have different meanings. But basically, it means: ‘my saviour’ or ‘rescuer’.”  
  
Drake smiled. “My guess, as well,” he said.  
  
Damian pealed off his mask, as if it was hindering the answer he could not see but everyone else could. “How?” He read it again, out loud, as if they would help him. He folded his arms across his chest in frustration.  
  
Bruce began to explain, going line by line. “Asking _What Am I?_ was redundant,” he said.  
  
“So, why did Adam Nichols break Nygma out of Arkham?” Drake wondered. “I can’t find a connection between the two other than they corresponded through mail.”  
  
“Obviously, they have a connection you can’t see,” Damian rebuked. “Neither of us had a clue of Grayson’s family ties to the Court of the Owls.”  
  
“For once, I agree.” Drake’s fingers typed furiously across the keyboard. “I went through everything we had on Edward Nygma, all his personal data and relations. Other than his daughter, Enigma, nothing else popped up.”  
  
“Keep looking,” was all Bruce said.  
  
“Right,” Drake replied.  
  
Just then, the sound of a motorcycle roared into the Batcave, as Red Hood pulled onto the main platform from the tunnels beyond, and seated behind him was Nightwing, with his arms wrapped around Jason’s waist.  
  
When the bike parked, Nightwing kept his arms around Jason for a moment. “Hey, Dick, stop getting fresh! I’m not Barbara.”  
  
“Can’t help it. You drive like a maniac. I had to hold on for dear life.” Nightwing finally let go, and got off the bike. “Found Jason en-route, on my way back to the cave, and we hooked up.”  
  
Jason took off his helmet. “Don’t say hooked up, sounds like we dating. And you’re definitely not my type.” Jason stepped away from Dick, then to Bruce. “Been awhile, eh, Bruce?”  
  
“Been staying out of trouble?” Bruce replied, in way as if speaking to an estranged son.  
  
“Mostly kicking ass when I see it.”  
  
“Except when it comes to preventing people like Nichols from obtaining large amounts of explosives that were used to blow a large hole in the side of Arkham,’ Damian retorted. “You were supposed to handle these things!”  
  
Jason growled angrily. “Listen, you little gutter-snipe! I can’t be everywhere! I have enough trouble dealing with Black Mask’s cronies, than little fish like Nichols!” Jason then looked at the screen of the Batcomputer. “So, what the hell is this crap?” Jason quickly read it. “Interesting, this Nichols actually told them what he was going to do before he sprung Nygma; that’s bold. Written as a double riddle, without the usual flare. But, of course, this wasn’t written by Riddler. But the cipher is a nice touch.”  
  
Bruce smiled thinly. “You saw that, too?”  
  
Nightwing wasn’t even bothering to decipher the riddle. He was tired. Either he breathed in too much smoke from the hobby shop fire, or it had been a long night, he just yawned, remaining on the sidelines.  
  
“Huh?” both Tim and Damian said in unison.  
  
Jason asked what happened at Arkham, everything. After he was fully filled in, he agreed with Bruce that the riddle hid a cipher within for some sort of subliminal command Nichols recited to make the guard kill the others and shoot the Warden. How Nichols managed to program the guard was a mystery.  
  
Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I’ll leave this up to you guys, I have other things to do, places to be. Been looking into a few weird things happening in the warehouse district; strange activity.”  
  
This grabbed Bruce’s attention. “Tell me about it,” he insisted.  
  
x x x  
  
“Ah,” Edward Nygma breathed a sigh of comfort, as he looked at himself in a tall mirror after he donned his own clothes, his Riddler suit. “Much better that that dreadful orange jumper. I think was getting a rash.” He tapped the bowler on his head with his Q-Staff. “Perfect. How you managed all this astounds me, Nichols.”  
  
They were in a secret location that Nichols had directed the disc pilots too bring them after they were snatched from the brink of death, falling out of the hole in Arkham Asylum, caused by droned explosives.  
  
Nichols stood next to Riddler. He now looked ten years older than his fake facade had made him out to be when they first met. But he still had a youthful appearance. The disguise was a means to an end, he had said.  
  
Nichols had his hands in his pockets, casually. “Everything is falling into place, but getting you out was a battle in its own. It took me months to gather up all the necessary items, then there was my own project.”  
  
Riddler continued to iron out any winkles in his suit with a dab of hot water in a finger bowl on a side table. He also felt better after a clean shave. “Your riddles to me for the last little while told me everything I needed to know of future events. They were quite good, and brain teasing, I must admit. Not the riddles, but the ciphers buried within. Each line corresponded to a specific word or phrase that added to the overall hidden message. And then a word within the riddle gave placement to a word or phrase in cue for it to make sense.”  
  
“I learned from the best, you are my mentor,” Nichols said.  
  
Nygma produced a crooked smirk. He then reached out and put his arms on Nichols shoulders, as if comforting a son. “Indeed,” Riddler mused for a moment, then: “How can say this without being cruel? Your riddles lack fairness. Riddles, my boy, are supposed to be fun, as well. When you take that out, you bore people.”  
  
Nichols looked confused, as Nygma removed his hands.  
  
“Let me explain.” Riddler returned to the mirror to fix his tie. “For example, take an amusement ride. A roller coaster may be fun, but just merely going up and down gets boring real quickly. It’s the same for a riddle. The same old riddles just won’t cut it, and if you make a riddle too difficult to decipher, you frustrate the one attempting to solve it. I challenge the Batfamily because I enjoy taunting them, but I also make my riddles simple enough for them to figure out, because they are means to an end to the game we play.”  
  
His tie straightened, he then turned back to Nichols. “I enjoyed your riddles, and the hidden ciphers, but next time, add more flare to the imaginary. Read more poetry, and insert more structure to the piece’s suffix. You can’t just jumble things together and hope they work. They need proper structure for all the components to fit. Just like an editor to a novelist. Tighten up your work.”  
  
“So, are you saying my riddles were not to your liking then? Because I’m confused.”  
  
“Let’s just say, they need more work. Now, to the task at hand. Is all in readiness?”  
  
Nichols removed his hands from his pockets. “Yes, and along with the riddles I sent to you, the appropriate, albeit, unwilling participates, were taken secretly and brainwashed with subliminal neuropathy. One of my specialities, I do have several doctorates in the field of medical science and psychology, after all. I have set things up in a laboratory, near a waft, in commercial and fishery district, purchased under a pseudonym. Subsequently, the subjects were released, none the wiser, with ciphers, hidden within letters they took with them. Once a phrase is spoken, let’s say over the phone, they are to read the letters and follow the cipher.”  
  
“Much like the ciphers you sent me in Arkham, weaponizing the riddles. Quite brilliant! I never would have expected such deviousness. Nice work!”  
  
Nichols beamed a smile, as if praise from his mentor was all it took to make his day.  
  
“Let’s hope Batman and his kids don’t catch on, or all of this is for nothing!” Riddler grit his teeth. “I don’t want to go back to that awful prison.”  
  
“Trust me,” Nichols waved off any concern, “Batman and his bratty, adopted children, won’t figure it out. Not even the greatest detective in the world can figure out what I have planned.”  
  
“That’s to be seen,” Riddler said darkly. He then looked around. “Fancy condo. You live well.”  
  
Nichols had first directed his men to take them to a secret location, then Nichols brought Nygma to a condo apartment, high up in one of Gotham City’s posh high-rises. It was a rather large apartment with multiple rooms, open concept, and overlooking the cityscape and waterfront.  
  
It had been secretly owned by the criminal known as Black Mask, that Nichols had done a few favours for him over the years, so he gave Nichols the apartment as a thank-you.  
  
He had also helped out several criminals in their enterprises, who also recently fought Batman and company, including Victor Fries and Jonathan Crane, financing their schemes. Most recently, he was a secret partner with Joker in a club in Bludhaven. But that went belly-up when the Batfamily crashed the party. But he managed to hide his involvement and delete all association he had with it, using a pseudonym in his role.  
  
He heard that the owner Paul Hudson was now serving three years in prison for his role in Joker’s scheme. He was an unwittingly associate and didn’t know that his club was being used for a nefarious scheme, so the judge went easy on him. Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne’s first ward, was a good friend with Hudson, and fought for him in court, managing to have the charges reduced.  
  
A large widescreen television was switched on in the room they were in, muted. The news profiled something that happened the night before—a large explosion to a storefront in the commercial district. The captions on the screen said that a hobby shop had gone up in flames due to a gas leak. There were no injuries.  
  
Following Nichols’s gaze, Riddler turned to the television. He knew of the store. “Pity, that was a nice store. It had a lot of wonderful games and puzzles. I went there a couple of times to buy things for my daughter, Enigma, when she was small. Mastermind Toys, it was called. I’ll miss it.”  
  
“It had to done,” Nichols replied.  
  
Nygma turned to him. “Explain?” he demanded harshly.  
  
Nichols looked taken aback. “It was my business. You probably came, and dealt with a helper I eventually had to let go. But I had to destroy it, to get rid of any evidence, at the same time of the break prison. It was necessary. A timed bomb was set, leaving no trace.”  
  
Riddler looked angry. “It was a moot decision, as you had a disguise on when you broke me out! Batman already knows you’re involved with me, he’ll most likely use facial-recognition technology to decipher your real identity after you stupidly yanked off part of your latex face at the prison. What purpose was there to destroy the shop? It was redundant, stupid, moronic.” Riddler clenched at fist at his side.  
  
“Why are you so angry?”  
  
Riddler took a deep breath. “Why, indeed,” he reasoned, “I just hate seeing things go up in smoke that could educate kids. It was wasteful, that’s all. It’s a pet peeve of mine. Forget it.”  
  
Nichols nodded, but he did not apologize. “Let me show you my base of operations,” he said. “Perhaps seeing it, will cheer you up, and partake in the reasoning of why certain things needed to be done.”  
  
“Very well. Lead on.”  
  
Taking an elevator to the basement parking lot, Nichols drove Nygma to his operations. The car pulled up just outside an average looking warehouse near to a fisherman’s wharf. Entering inside, they were greeted by a worker, disguised as a fisherman, who also acted as a guard. Nichols, recognizable, was immediately given immediate access to a secret elevator to the subterranean complex, with Nygma in tow.  
  
Nichols escorted Nygma around, which took about an hour.  
  
Afterwards, in a scientist’s hovel with medical beds and other equipment, apart from the larger, more elaborate complex, Nygma nodded his approval. They were in a bio-lab.  
  
“Reminds me of a hospital,” he remarked, as he looked at a layout schematic on a computer tablet.  
  
The entire complex was the size of a city-block, and was designed much like a military silo, with multiple tiers, and areas. It had been built underground without anyone the wiser and financed mainly in part with Black Mask’s money. But Black Mask had no direct association with the operation, he left it entirely to Nichols. Currently, in other bio-labs within the complex, there were five people undergoing ‘Neuropathy Conversion’.  
  
Just then, three men in white lab coats rounded the centre rotunda of the main complex catwalk, and Nichols stopped them. They had been in deep converse with one another, but when they saw that it was Nichols, all three immediately straightened, like military subordinates.  
  
“Progress report?” Nichols asked.  
  
One of them handed him a tablet. Nichols took it, scrolled through it. “No issues to report, Doctor,” the younger man said. “Neuropathy Conversion of the subjects are yielding no difficulty.”  
  
Dr. Adam Nichols smiled. “Good,” he said. “Continue with the work.” He then sent them on their way.  
  
“Impressive, Nichols,” Riddler said admirably. “Black Mask must have forked out a fortune for this scheme?”  
  
“Not all of it is a result from him. At first, he gave me the starting capital. But then, I was able to kidnap prominent people of note, and force them to hand over great some of money under the guise of charity, using my ‘Neuropathy Conversion’ methods. I can control anyone to do anything without fail.”  
  
“Once again, impressive,” Riddler smiled thinly. “Now, get rid of it. All of it!”  
  
Nichols was dumbstruck. “Pardon me? Do you know how long it took to establish this place?”  
  
Riddler slammed the base of his Q-Staff to the floor, creating a loud clang. “I thought you were smarter than this? But because you are not originally from Gotham, you only established your hobby store in the city a few years back, as you came from other place, you are obviously unaware of the pitfalls of this area.”  
  
“Do you mean Batman?”  
  
“No, I mean the Red Hood. The warehouse district is his turf, his haunt, per se. And he’s probably already aware of this operation, and has informed Batman! You have no idea how the man thinks.”  
  
“Impossible! This place is unknown!”  
  
“Nothing is out of Batman’s reach. Now, pack up this operation, and do it immediately. You told me in transit that you have a secondary site, do you not?”  
  
“Yes, I do. Just in case, but…”  
  
“Then, move this operation there!” Riddler walked away from Nichols as if arguing was a moot point.  
  
Nichols huffed annoyed, but then told everyone to begin departure operations, and to kill the subjects, as from what he had seen from their progress reports, they were of lesser stock, and would be of little use.

_To be continued..._


	4. Enemy Sighted

  
“Is that everything?” Bruce asked, after Jason had completed a report on what he observed as suspicious activity at a warehouse near the fisheries wharf, with Roy Harper, one of his partners in The Outlaws.  
  
Jason stood bewildered, cupping his hands on his hips. “Yeah, that’s everything, Bruce,” he said snidely. “I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition when I came here.”  
  
“Should we make a trip there and check it out?” Dick suggested.  
  
“Nah, Roy’s on the case,” Jason replied. “He’s watching the area, as we speak. If anything goes down, he has my number, he’ll let us know.“  
  
Just then Jason’s cell rang with the tone “Living on the Edge” by Guns And Roses.  
  
Grayson smirked, the symbolism not lost. Jason was always living on the edge. Ever since he was resurrected by some cosmic force and the Lazarus Pit, controlled by Ra’s Al Ghul, he used his second chance at life, like a game, and charged into any fight, not caring about the consequences.  
  
Jason answered his phone. It was a flip phone. He had been asked why he carried such a phone, and he said that he kept breaking flatscreen’s whenever he went into battle. A flip phone was safer and more compact. If he ever needed to surf the internet, he would just borrow Roy’s. Roy was a techno-wiz and treated each piece of his equipment like they were his daughter, Lian, Jason’s god-daughter.  
  
“Speak of the devil,” Jason said, as he put the call on speaker phone.  
  
“Hey, I don’t have horns and I don’t have a tail,” Roy responded, “but I aint no angel either. So, what does that make me?”  
  
“A cowboy junkie,” Jason said.  
  
Harper grumbled. “Some friend you are,” he replied. “Always hit a guy where it hurts, eh?”  
  
Everyone knew that Harper had been an addict to drugs in the past, but after he got clean, he started to become a little more spirited, like a cowboy’s wild horse on a Ranch.  
  
Roy Harper, even though he was born in the UK, was part Navajo Indian, but he had developed an American country vernacular and acted like a cowboy, most often. His genetics gave him utmost skill with a bow and arrow, and no one but one other man could match him with the bow, and his vast arsenal with different types of arrows.  
  
Before he was known as Arsenal, he was the Green Arrow’s sidekick known as Speedy due to his speed, and later Red Arrow. Through the years, he went through many stages, and changes in his costume. But he eventually came to settle on blood red tights, a yellow cap that he often wore backwards, and a pair of high-tech goggles, along with an array of weaponry, stealth-like ability, flexibility, and intelligence.  
  
He teamed-up with Jason and Kory in a team aptly named The Outlaws, because they considered themselves above the law.  
  
“Do you have anything important to report?” Jason asked.  
  
“Is Dick there?”  
  
Jason immediately looked to Damian. Grayson smirked. “Which one do you want?”  
  
“Huh?” came Roy’s voice.  
  
Damian sneered, “He means Grayson, you jackass!” he said to Jason.  
  
Roy laughed. “Forget about it. I was going to ask Dick to give you a smack across the back of the head for that snide remark, but that’s good enough. Thanks, Damian.”  
  
“I still don’t like you, Roy! By the way, you’re an arse, too!”  
  
“Are you calling me an ass? Hey? I get it, some old man called me Mr. Arse before, thinking Nal was my last name. Now you’re just being mean!”  
  
“Roy, get to the point already,” Bruce stepped in.  
  
There was a pause, then Roy said, “Sorry, Bruce. Anyway, I’ve been following the news, and I know about Nygma escaping Arkham, and the hobby store explosion, and its owner Adam Nichols, so, to my wandering eyes, what do I see, both of them right here, at the very same warehouse on the fisheries wharf Jason wanted me to stakeout. They seem to be bugging out, and very quickly, like they fleeing a police raid.”  
  
The tone in the Batcave became serious.  
  
Jason nodded. “Thanks for the heads up, Roy. Excellent work. We’re on our way to you. Keep them in your sights, and if they leave before we get there, keep us appraised.”  
  
“Righto, Boss! Arsenal out!”  
  
The call ended.  
  
Everyone began to gear up and checked their weapons, all except Tim Drake. He went straight to the Batcomputer and began to type feverishly. He brought up a city map and a schematic of the fisheries wharf. He then sent the information to everyone’s devices for reference, using Arsenal’s GPS marker for a guide.  
  
Tim would normally utilize his wrist 3D projection unit, if he was coming. “I’m not opting out,” he said, when he turned back. Damian eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to need someone back here to monitor things.”  
  
“Agreed,” Bruce said, fitting his cowl back on. Damian stuck his face mask back on, adding some more non-abrasive adhesive to the back of it, so it would stick.  
  
Jason slipped his helmet back on and straddled his bike. Nightwing got on behind him.  
  
“We’ll met you there,” Nightwing said.  
  
Batman and Damian hopped into the Batmoble after it was settled they would follow them.  
  
“Okay, Dick,” Jason began. “This time, no getting fresh. And keep your hands above the Equator.”  
  
“That only happened once and it was an accident, you drive like a lunatic. And I went to grab your belt.” Dick then wrapped his arms around Jason’s chest like he was hugging him. “Is that better?”  
  
“Careful, Dick, or you’ll set off my electro-shock chest protector. And you remember how that feels, right?”  
  
“Just drive, Jason. And leave the jokes to me.”  
  
“Oh, a bit sensitive?”  
  
Jason laughed, then rived up his bike, and sped off into the bat tunnels. The Batmobile was close behind.  
  
x x x  
  
Arsenal/Roy laid low on the roof of an adjacent warehouse overlooking his target watching Nichols and Riddler ask they were getting ready to leave.  
  
He was told to sit tight and wait for Jason and the others, but he was getting antsy for some action, and by the look of things, the crooks may get away before reinforcements arrived.  
  
He couldn’t read lips, but as he watched the villainous pair, they were talking about something important just outside the main doors to the warehouse, the doors wide open as equipment was being hauled out. Just then, a worker went to Nichols, and from his expression, it seemed that everything was ready for them to leave.  
  
Arsenal couldn’t let that happen. He got to his feet and readied an arrow. Inside was an expanding net that reacted with oxygenation to the air, which helped it to expand, releasing a glue like substance that coagulated on impact. He wished he could say it was his idea, but it saw the idea in a comic book and stole it.  
  
Just then, he was grabbed on the shoulder by a gigantic hand and lifted off his feet. The monster known as Bane had got the drop on him, if that was even possible. He knew Jason would scold him for this if he were here. His mentoring from Batman always told him to be aware of his surroundings.  
  
“No, little man!” Bane’s heavy Spanish accent came through. “I can’t let you do that!”  
  
Roy struggled, but to no avail. “I thought I smelled garlic, but with all the fish, you hid yourself well. But you need a breath mint, big man. You My friends are coming!”  
  
“And you need to shout your wily mouth! As for your friends, I’ll take care of Batman and Red Hood!”  
  
“Throw him to the ground, Bane!” Adam Nichols shouted from below.  
  
Roy looked down, both Nichols and Nygma were looking up at the action taking place.  
  
“That’s Arsenal, Red Hood’s partner in the Outlaws,” Riddler said, pointing with his Q-Staff. “I was right! Our position is compromised!”  
  
Just then, the roar of a motorcycle came sounding, with Red Hood and Nightwing on back, doing some balancing act, standing behind him, holding a grappling gun, and pointing it at Bane.  
  
When Bane lifted Arsenal into the air, Nightwing fired the tether line, and swung up, catching Roy, just as the big villain tossed him down. Nightwing caught Roy, oddly, and they both landed, albeit safely to the ground, with a thud. It wasn’t the most graceful, but any landing a person could walk away from was a good one.  
  
Jason brought the bike to a stand-still, shutting off the engine. The Batmobile was close behind.  
  
“Hallo, little man,” Bane said, when he dropped to the ground, landing with a heavy thud, after jumping off the roof of the warehouse. “Care to play with me?  
  
“I’m not in the mood for playing right now, but with you, I’ll make an exception.”  
  
Riddler and Nygma bolted back into the warehouse, escaping the fighting.  
  
Jason went for his guns, but the moment he brought them to bare, Bane grabbed both of Jason’s wrists and twisted them. Jason cried out, dropping his guns. Then he lifted Jason into the air, spreading his arms apart.  
  
“I can rip your limbs from your body, Red Hood,” Bane threatened. “But knowing you, and your ability to heal quickly, just like me, you’d probably grow them right back like a _lagartija_.”  
  
With the Venom serum Bane used to expand him muscle mass, healing ability and strength, Jason had little doubt.  
  
“Most _lagartijas_ are smart creatures, but it depends on the lizard. And some lizards are vastly more intelligent to humans, like me.”  
  
Jason pulled back and raised his legs, he then kicked Bane in the face. This forced Bane to release him. Bane staggered back, as Red Hood landed. Jason felt his wrists and was thankful they weren’t broken.  
  
“So, why are you here for, Bane? What’s all this about?”  
  
“I was hired to protect the project, and that’s what I will do!”  
  
Bane rose his left arm and went to smash Jason.  
  
Nightwing suddenly came running and lunged at Bane, grabbing hold of the arm, stopping him. Arsenal them grabbed Bane’s other arm. But Bane was much too strong and both heroes were suddenly flying around like on a carousel ride, as they both tried to hang onto Bane’s tree truck like arms for dear life.  
  
Bane kept going around and around, and eventually it became too much for Arsenal, and he let go, and crashed and rolled near Jason’s bike. Then he threw up. But Nightwing kept on. And eventually crawled onto Bane’s back and wrapped his arms around Bane’s neck in a chokehold.  
  
The Batmobile finally arrived. Jason figured it took them more time because a car had less space than a bike to navigate through narrowed streets.  
  
Robin (Damian) hopped out first, followed by Batman, after the Batmobile stopped.  
  
“Get up, you fool!” Robin said to Arsenal.  
  
“My head is still spinning after that carousel ride,” Roy said, his equilibrium wobbly.  
  
Bane grabbed Nightwing by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off him like he was nothing but a nat, and then planted his other hand over Nightwing’s face, basically cutting off his oxygen. Nightwing struggled, his legs dangling, his hands clasped around Bane’s massive arm in an attempt to free himself.  
  
Jason ran towards Bane, but with a swot with the back of a hand, Jason went flying backwards, and made a line in the dirt, as the force caused him to slide. Then Bane tossed Nightwing in the same direction, and Nightwing hit the ground hard and rolled.  
  
“Insects, all of you,” Bane gloated.  
  
Damian unsheathed his katana, and charged at Bane.  
  
Then Nightwing stopped him.  
  
“Robin, we got this!” he said with a seriousness that Nightwing was known for showing in very harsh moments. Nightwing/Dick Grayson often used humour to defuse tense situations, but in a pinch, he could be serious, as both he and Jason got to their feet. “Riddler and Nygma are in the warehouse,” he then said.  
  
Batman acknowledged the information. “Robin, stay with Arsenal,” he ordered, looking back at Roy Harper, who was still having trouble recovering. He also vomited again. “I’m going after Riddler and Nichols!”  
  
There was a moment of protest from Damian, but in the end, he lost. Batman ran into the warehouse alone.  
  
Nightwing stood on his feet. Bane’s pressure to his face caused his nose to start bleeding, so he wiped it away with a sleeve. “Okay, Bane. It takes two to tango, and three is a crowd, but I wouldn’t have anyone else with me at this moment.”  
  
Jason nodded, and they both charged towards Bane.

_To be continued..._


	5. Betrayal

With the warehouse facility left insecure, Batman entered unabated. But he also was cautious. Riddler always had a trick up his sleeve.

Batman headed down a brightly lit corridor and then to an elevator that lead to the lower floors. The place was deserted. At first glance, it appeared to look like a hollowed-out military silo. There were medical rooms on every tier and there were half a dozen levels in all.

Everything of value had been raided from the facility and had been packed up, and shipped out, minus five dead bodies that were still strapped in their respective experimental mddi-beds, still connected to equipment, but abandoned.

He searched through cabinets and desk drawers for anything to indicate where they had gone. He even found a dead body on the floor in another room, shot in the head. The man was wearing a white medical lab coat. Any indication why he was killed with unknown. He was probably a person Riddler thought was dispensable.

However, despite all this, Batman figured what he found was not the half of it, and the facility held more secrets.

After a thorough search, he found another room with a dozen more medical beds and a research lab deeper in the rear. It was separated from the rest of the facility, was enlarged and stretched as far as his naked eyes could see. With his cowl he could see through walls, but there was nothing of interest beyond them.

The villainy of Riddler was despicable. Whatever this place was, now lay abandoned, but somewhere lay a clue. Edward Nygma always left a clue to his next caper. It was a game Riddler and Batman had played for as long as he could remember.

Suddenly, he heard a loud echoing clang from the far end of the room. Batman snapped his gaze to the sound. And there was Riddler, standing arrogant and clad in his green, trademark clothes, with question mark jacket and bowler hat; Q-Staff in hand.

Adam Nichols came out of a hiding spot from behind a tall cabinet. He had a gun in hand and then raised it to point at Batman.

Adam Nichols took two steps forward and then stepped in front of Nygma, as if to protect him from anything Batman would do. Batarangs would easily knock them both to the floor, but Batman wanted answers first before engaging in violence.

If anything, he obeyed his own cardinal rule: no killing. Above all else, if he broke that rule and engaged in brutality, he would be violating his own moral code.  
He always told Jason to think before acting, most of the time an enemy could be out with it with intelligence and forward-thinking. And violence was a last resort.

"You're too late, Batman," Riddler said with an arrogant grin. "Everything is packed up and gone."

"Not everything, Nygma! You're still here." Batman eyed Nichols, something seemed odd about him. He had a blank look on his face. "Did you kill those people in the medi-beds? Who were they?"

Riddler shrugged indifferently. "Subjects. Victims. Unwilling participants. Call them what you will. Quite frankly, I only learned about all this a little while ago. This was not my caper." He laughed. "Oh, but how interesting what I learned. The discovery was a fortuitous one for me. It has saved me a lot of time, everything done prior to my arrival. And it isn't even mine."

Adam Nichols hadn't said anything, the gun still in hand and pointed at Batman. Once again, Batman noticed how autonomous Nichols looked.

"This may sound a little cliché, but I am now in complete control of this operation. And being in control is what I do best. Riddle me this, Batman: When is a man's mind not his own?"

Batman didn't have to think hard. "When he's being manipulated," was his answer.

"Precisely! Nichols, kill Batman! _Now!_ "

Nichols fired off in quick succession a number of shots at Batman. Batman's armour easily deflected the shots and they ricocheted in different parts of the room. Riddler was obviously controlling Nichols as if he was some sort of robot using mind control. Perhaps the very same control Nichols used on the guard at Arkham Asylum?

Nichols kept firing until the chamber was empty. Any kept depressing the trigger despite no shots were exiting the gun. Nichols was definitely being controlled.  
Eventually, Nichols lowered the gun, but he stood like a shield in front of Nygma.

Just then, Nichols reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a wireless trigger device. He then ripped open his shirt to reveal a bomb vest.

Batman halted any advance. "Why betray your own partner, Riddler? He broke you out of prison and this is how you repay him?"

"Hmm, that is a riddle. Isn't it, Batman? It's much like a politician going back on a promise. You vote them in, only for them to betray you for a personal agenda. He served his purpose. We corresponded in the pen pal exchange at Arkham, and I befriended him, hoping that he would see the light, to tackle the puzzle of releasing me from my infernal prison, for which you put me in. But he made one fatal mistake. I'm the Riddler and I hold no onus to anyone!"

"You're a psychopath," Batman stated bluntly.

Riddler put up a finger, as if about to make a point. "As the snake said to the woman after she saved him from the cold: ' _Oh, shut up, woman. You knew damn well I was a snake when you took me in_.'" He grinned. "Nichols should have abided by the old tale. When I saw his operation, I just had to take it for my own. I don't play well with others. I've always been a loner. I used his own trick against him and programmed his mind with a secret cipher. With a single phrase I was able to control his every whim. He was an idiot for destroying his own hobby shop. The Gotham City Police are not as stupid as some criminals think they are, and you can tell with them that from me—a compliment. Nichols' actions would have led them straight to this place, as it did you. He made too many mistakes."

With help from Tim, they were able to decipher that there was a program within Nichols last letter to Nygma within riddle and Riddler just confirmed that there was a secret cipher. Batman wondered if the same was true with the letters.

"Before I depart, Batman. Allow me to leave you with a parting gift. And if you survive, you can come after me and learn the rest of what in store…What is most prudent to have during an emergency?"

Riddler than bolted down a rear corridor leaving Nichols to guard his escape. Batman could not follow, Nichols was his prime priority. He had to disarm the bomb or the entire warehouse would blow. Nichols had enough C4 strapped to his chest to blow everything sky high!

"The answer is an exit strategy," Tim said in the comm-link in Batman's cowl. Batman had already figured that out for himself and it was pretty obvious after Riddler fled, leaving Nichols in his stead—a 'fire' in his own rite. And it wasn't much of a riddle, more like a question.

"The others are faring well against Bane at the moment, I think," Tim informed him, "but Bane keeps batting Jay and Dick around like they were rag dolls."  
"Nearest exit?"

"Loading dock, about 40 metres, northwest of your position, according to the city regulated layout of the building."

" _Go…_ Batman!" Nichols struggled to say, fighting his programming. "I was a fool to trust Edward Nygma. He was obviously manipulating me from the very start of our letter exchange."

Nichols struggled with extreme difficulty in avoiding to press the trigger of the handheld device that would cause the bomb to detonate.

"Tell me where he's going?"

Nichols told Batman about the secondary site, where all the equipment had been shipped to. He also told Batman his planned scheme and how he started it. And what he had done to certain people, forcing them to give him money under a false charity scheme to fund his project.

"You must stop him, Batman," Nichols pleaded. "I foolishly told him everything, and now Edward Nygma has the power to alter society with what I've created. All of Gotham City is in grave danger!"

"Fight Riddler's control over you and put the trigger device down," Batman insisted.

"It's too late for me now, Batman. I must pay for my crimes. Fighting the programming is exhausting me to the point that I feel like I'm about to faint. I've told you everything I know. You must stop him! Now… _go!_ Or we'll both die!"

"Batman, You must get out of there!" Tim told him, somewhat in a panic. "The signature of that bomb can wipe you out and half the warehouse!"

"I know," Batman replied. Knowing there was nothing else you could do. He thanked Nichols, and then bolted past him, telling everyone to vacate the building due to the bomb.

Then Batman ran down another corridor on his way to the loading dock.

Suddenly, the bomb exploded.

_To be continued..._

 


	6. Damian Kidnapped

Red Robin alerted Nightwing and the others a few moments before they heard the explosion from inside the warehouse. They were still engaged with Bane when it went off.

They heard it, but there is no external damage to the warehouse. Everything happened internally.

But everyone knew Adam Nichols was dead, Red Robin told them. He had strapped a bomb to his chest and it detonated. Batman ran after Riddler out towards the loading dock.

"That is my cue to leave," Bane said, after he heard the explosion. He swatted Arsenal with a backhand. Harper had managed to recover from his dizzy spell and attacked Bane head on. He was thrown into Red Hood and Nightwing as if he was a bowling ball knocking down pins.

Collectively they all went down as if struck such.

Robin, Damian, was the only one left standing, but he had felt the strikes and blows from Bane, after Arsenal had regained his strength. He was a fighter, but Damian new a losing battle when he saw one. Yet he was never one to quit. He still had some fuel in the tank.

"I'm not going to let you just leave, Bane!" Damian said holding his right arm.

"You are weak, youngling. I am Bane. What makes you think you can do better than them, especially in your lesser state?" Bane pointed to the others on the ground.

Robin knew if none of the others had any broken bones, then they most certainly had heavily bruised muscles or maybe even fractures, and that was a reason why they were momentarily subdued.

The monstrous Spaniard did a lot of damage without taking much himself. Bane fashioned himself after a Luchador, a Mexican wrestler. They were mostly smaller people and high flyers, but there was also the type that prided themselves in conditioning themselves with lots of muscle and heavy frames.

But like most criminals, Bane had a massive ego to go with his massive body, and that made him vulnerable to quick attacks. Bane may have enjoyed staying grounded, but Robin enjoyed attacking from the air.

Robin had his katana, but Batman's cardinal rule came into play: _No killing_. But that didn't mean he couldn't slice Bane up a bit. Despite his size, Bane was quick on his feet and a formidable foe.

"You're an ass!" Robin taunted. He hoped to entice the big guy. "And no wonder you have to overcompensate with your size, judging by your package." Robin smirked smug.

Bane looked at him with a hateful stare. When it came to insulting Spaniards the best insult was to tell them they had a small _polla_.

It worked.

Bane went to grab Robin, but the big villain suddenly stopped when he heard a voice coming from a small transmitter in his ear, for which Robin also caught.

"Quit playing around with those brats!" Riddler ordered. Robin clenched his teeth when he realized Riddler had not been apprehended by his father. "Time to deliver a strategic retreat."

"Right", Bane replied. He straightened his shoulders and backed away from Robin. "Been fun playing with, you little man, and your friends were quite good. But it takes more than you for me to strike up a sweat." Bane said goodbye in Spanish and then quickly fled.

"Hey, we're not done here!" Robin sneered, and he run after the villain.

Suddenly, and without warning, a helicopter appeared over the battleground and a tether line was lowered down for Bane. In the cabin, Riddler was seen leaning over, holding on to the hatch with one hand and his bower hat on his head with the other.

Robin wondered where Batman was.

Bane grabbed onto the on to the line as it began to hoist him upwards. The helicopter able to handle his weight.

"Oh no, you don't! You're not getting away from me!" And Robin grabbed the edge of the tether line and began to climb up towards Bane.

Robin climbed, and finally clutched onto one of Bane's massive legs. Then he grabbed hold of Bane, clutching around his leg like a monkey, trying to use his own body weight to force the big man down.

Robin was unsuccessful. Bane, with one hand free, grabbed onto Robbin's shirt collar, like one would grab onto the scruff of a dog's neck, and lifted him up. Robin had nowhere to go and no safety line to grab.

Bane extended Robin forward. "Splat you go, Little Robin. I bet you will make a wonderful blood stain on the ground."

"Bane!" Riddler yelled down. "Bring him with us as collateral. The kid will come in handy. With him hostage, Batman will not follow for safety of his young companion."

"As you wish," Bane replied, after a disgruntle.

Bane got a firm grip on Robin and the tether line began to ascend, then Bane flung Robin into the cabin, and climbed in, subduing Robin easily.

Riddler looked down as the others got to their feet on the ground. Then smiled, as the helicopter ascended. He saw Nightwing put hands to his mouth, shouting something up to them. But it couldn't be heard over the noise of the helicopter's blades.

x x x

"Robin!"

Nightwing shouted, cupping the sides of his mouth as he got to feet, the helicopter ascending.

Bane literally tossed Damian into the helicopter cabin, and climbed in, as it flew away.

Nightwing grabbed his grapple gun from his belt and went to shoot a line to the helicopter. His hope was it would grab onto the landing gear and he would swing up to save Damian.

At the last moment, Jason slapped a hand on Dick's arm and halted his attempt.

"It's too late. They're too far up."

Dick give a moments glance at Jason and then sighed. Jason was right. And even if he did fire his grappling gun up towards the helicopter, it was just too high up for it to catch on.

As the helicopter ascended, the pair could do nothing but watch.

Arsenal came to their side, asked, "What now?"

He never received an answer. Nightwing put a hand to his ear, depressing the earbud inside. He tried to contact Batman, but he received no response.

Then he said, "Tim, you wanted to test out your new experimental flying drones. Well, now is the time. Target: Riddler's helicopter. Track it!"

Nightwing then gave the direction where the helicopter was headed.

With every member of the Batfamily, everyone wore a GPS tracker. Tim would be able to track Robin, Damian, by this method using his experimental flying drones.

Tim had mentioned his drones, working on them in the Batcave. They looked like a standard drone that someone would buy in a store. But they included a lot more features and he mass-produce them. They were smaller drones and he had an army of them.

Tim agreed to release them, and program them with Robin's, Damian's, GPS tracker. It took them less than 10 seconds to program everything with the Batcomputer.

Tim then said, "Drone's away!"

Nightwing could only imagine as Tim's drones left the Batcave via its secret caverns and climbed the sky like tiny black bats at midnight.

Batman then re-entered the fray. He explained that he was too late to catch Edward Nygma. He reiterated that Nichols was dead, blowing himself up with a bomb vest that Riddler gave him, under the influence of his own mind manipulation that Riddler perverted for his own gain, which resulted in the explosion.

Nightwing then told Batman about Damian, but that Tim was on the case following the helicopter with his experimental flying drones.

Batman scowled. He was both disappointed that he had not caught up to Riddler and that Damian had decided to go off on his own against Bane without backup.  
"He'll be okay, Batman," Nightwing said. "We've all been in trickier situations than this. But I've never known so many things to go wrong like this."

"That damn brat should have known better," Jason said as he took off his helmet.

"Drones have ascended and are in route to the helicopter," Tim said to everyone in their comm-link. "Damian's GPS signal is a little weak. I'm getting some interference and it's causing confusion with the drones. Riddler is probably using some sort of scrambler to mask Damian's GPS and the helicopter frequency. But I am getting some airwave chatter from authorities. The police are reporting in that they are seeing the helicopter."

"Keep tracking the copter and let us know where it lands," Nightwing said.

"Will do!"

After a small stint with the GCPD, reporting the incident, the explosion creating a stir, Batman and company went back to the Batcave.

But when they returned, Tim didn't have good news.

Tim was upset. "I lost them, even with my new experimental drones. I lost them!" A sourness crossed his face and for a moment he looked like Damian pouting. "And to top it off, the GCPD demanded that I land the drones because they were in violation of Gotham City air regulations. At one point they even thought they were part of an sinister attack. Even after I explained to of them that they belonged to me, they still insisted that they land. And every one of them was confiscated. I had to remotely short out every one of their matrix so they wouldn't attempt to track their origin. I just finished completing them too!"

"So, that's why you look like Damian with that sourpuss face," Jason said sarcastically.

"Damien's GPS signal?" Batman asked seriously.

Tim Drake shook his head. "Masked," he said. "It's last point of reference is. . ." Tim pointed at a digital map on the Batcomputer main screen. Then slammed a fist to the control console. "Damn it!"

Jason put a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Easy kid, we'll find him," he said. "And besides, he's a tough little brat. He can take care of himself when things get rough. He was trained by the best." Jason gave Bruce a small wink. He then turned to Roy Harper who had come with them to the Batcave. "Roy, get the Outlaws together and let's go hunting!"

"Will do, boss," Roy said. "One small problem, we are it. And Kory's off doing who knows what. She likes human culture. She likes human men. Sometimes the two go hand-in-hand. You know how she was with us."

"Ex-nay in front of Dickie-eh," Jason said, in a bad version of pig Latin. But it was obviously meant to be facetious.

Dick rolled his eyes, then shrugged.

"It's over between us," he then said. "She can do what she wants, and frankly who she wants." He gave both Roy and Jason a straight stare knowing full well they both slept with her. "I know she likes to experiment with different things and different people. I'm not offended. You both can speak openly about her to me. We are good friends now."

But somehow, Jason didn't buy it.

_To be continued..._

 


	7. A Correlation Between Cases

Tim Drake had a news media station on mute on a side monitor as he sat at the Batcomputer. He was typing, when he just happen to glance over, seeing something change from the corner of his eye. He glanced over fully when the picture switched to a scene and a reporter. Grabbing the controller he switched on the volume.

 A reporter was in the middle of a street in downtown Gotham, and a crowd had gathered, all with their hands up in the air, catching what appeared to be pieces of paper. Cars then bumped into each other, and suddenly, people were going crazy trying to gather up these papers.

The Batfamily gathered around the screen.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Jason wondered.

The reporter on the scene picked up one at the fallen pieces of paper, turned it over in his hand. He looked dumbfounded as if realizing what it was.  
"Oh my god! It's a hundred dollar bill!" the reporter said.

Tim managed to capture a shot of one of the bills' face and he enhance the image.

Bruce leaned over Tim's shoulder. "It has all the markings of the Gotham City Mint," he confirmed.

"So, is that real money that's falling from the sky?" Arsenal asked excitedly. "Should we make our way over and grab our share? I know of a few things I would like to purchase. My wallet's been a little empty as of late, too many late nights at the bar with Jason."

Bruce gave Jason a momentary hard stare. He gave Jason an allowance. But he knew that Jason also fenced arms online. It was also his way of gathering information into criminal activity, so Bruce let it slide. Using little fish to coax the big ones out was Jason's style.

As if on cue, the media camera that was pointed at the reporter panned up to an image of a helicopter in the sky. Everyone was shocked to see who was in the cabin throwing money into the sky and to the crowds. It was Edward Nygma. In typical fashion, he reached into a large sack tossing out bills of $100 denominations. It was almost like he was Santa Claus giving out gifts to all the good little children of Gotham.

Jason put his hands on his hips in confusion. "Is that his own money? Does he want to start a riot?"

Everyone agreed with Jason's assessment.

Nightwing pointed at the screen. "But what's the point? We all know he likes to play games."

"Riddler's Cipher Code," Bruce said.

"Any clue what he means by this little stunt?" Nightwing wondered. "Is he crazy? Strike that. Yes, he is."

"You know Nygma," Arsenal started. "He's a puzzle wrapped in a riddle forever in an enigma."

Roy attempted to add levity to the situation, but none of the others found it amusing, and even Jason gave him a shake of the head in disbelief.  
Roy looked at Jason and shrugged. "What? Grayson makes horrible jokes all the time," he said pouting.

Jason put a hand on Roy's shoulder and squeezed. Roy cringed. "Forgive the lad," Jason said. "He knows not what he doth. I'll slap him around later."

"I think Bruce is right about the ' _Riddler Cipher Code_ '," Tim said, quickly changing the subject. "And it's possible Nichols riddle had a trigger phrase hidden within it that caused the guard at Arkham to act."

They all gathered in front of the large screen of the Batcomputer as Tim put up the riddle recited by Nichols at Arkham that caused the chaos, muting the news station.

Tim said, pointing: "Here, here, here, and here. . .each line has a numerical co-efficient, corresponding to another line in the riddle, and my guess is when certain words were spoken, albeit in whatever order, the guard who shoot the other guards, and the Warden, was programmed to comply to a masked directive."

"But not necessarily the order to shoot," Bruce put in. "Just for him to obey Nichols order."

"I saw the cipher code before, Timmy," Jason said, "but now you're just confusing me."

_T_ im read the riddle to everyone again:

_"Forever the nigh, heed my calling,_  
_To speak this mystery, epee at hand,_  
_I need not imbue my nature, firstly;_  
_Thrice you listen to elope._  
_What Am I?"_

"See?" Tim continued. "It reads a little like poetry, but here, let me point it out."

Tim started: "The word 'firstly' in line 3 actually refers to line 1. Line 2, has the word 'to' but is actually replacing its numerical co-efficient, and refers to line 2. Line 4, 'Thrice' or three, refers to line 3. And line 1 has the word 'Forever', for which the first syllable 'four' is inferred and refers to line 4. If you take one word from each line to devise a command for someone to follow — a pre-programmed command, let's say — my theory is the guard had had to have been kidnapped at some point and taken to Nichols' lab to be brainwashed, so later, when Nichols recited his final riddle to Riddler at Arkham, his plan could come to fruition."  
"Therefore, the RCC holds true," Bruce said, impressed. "Nice work, Tim." He pat Tim on the shoulder, and Tim smiled proud. "Riddler and Nichols must have been working together behind the scenes for the RCC to work."

"I think my brain just melted," Arsenal said. "Care to explain that to us dummies?"

Dick leaned in closer, mouthed the riddle to himself. "Okay, I found the numerical co-efficient's, Tim. But what is the secret command, do you think?"

"If I had to wager a guess," Tim began, "and if I had to choose four words to use that best suits a 'command' to follow, I would use: ' _I speak, you heed_ '. That would be the trigger phrase, I bet. And the 'What Am I?' is: ' _I am your master, so obey me_ ', supposedly. Or, it may just be an add-on?"

"Diabolical," Dick said, straightening up. "Too bad Nichols is dead now. That was quite brilliant!"

"But here is some bad news. I've been going through news clips and video media, and there seems to be more of these kinds of things happening that could not be connected until now. Now that I know what I'm looking for, I can cross-reference what we now know with other incidents of a similar nature."

"Yes," Bruce agreed. "And take note of any suspicious activity regarding money transfers or losses of big corporations, as well. Nichols had to finance his operation. I suspect he may have had start-up capital from someone else, but then he was able to branch out, and expand. As all the equipment was gone when we got to the warehouse on the wharf, a secondary site must be established somewhere. We need to find it."

Tim suddenly began tapping his fingers on the console, quickly, formulating a thought. Then he quickly ran his fingers over the keyboard and brought up previous cases the Batfamily had engaged in. "Yes, Yes! I knew it!" He snapped his fingers in a eureka moment. "I wondered who it may have been and now I may have an answer!"

"What are you saying, Tim?" Dick wondered.

Tim swung his chair around to face everyone. "Remember those cases with Crane, Freeze, and the Joker — I wondered if there was a mysterious benefactor behind all those schemes. Now I know who: Adam Nichols. All of them had backing and each of them had a mysterious partner. Crane needed money for his new hallucinogen gas at the Gotham Carnival, Freeze had help breaking out of Arkham and got money for his new Ice Acid Gun, and Joker had a mysterious partner that backed him with financing Dick's friend's Paul Hudson's club in Bludhaven."

**_(Author's note: Refers to my stories: Carnival of Tricks, The Secret of Jason Todd, and Jolly's Folly.)_ **

Everyone was stunned.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Timmy?" Jason asked before anyone else.

"That we better go to Arkham and ask Crane, Freeze, and Joker, some hard-end questions, and squeeze them for information about who Adam Nichols _really_ is? And maybe one of them can lead us to Damian? Then yes, I do!"

_To be continued..._

 


	8. Another Prison Escape

Bane ripped the doors off Dr. Jonathan Crane's cell at Arkham Asylum, and the goliath made quick work of any resistance when he and the Riddler stormed the maximum security prison for the criminally insane that was located just outside Gotham City.

Crane didn't seem surprised, although he did step back to the rear of a cell when the pair announced themselves.

Standing at the threshold of his cell, his body silhouetted in light making him appear like an angelic being, Crane smiled when he saw Edward Nygma.

"I had a feeling you'd come for me," Crane said. " _Nichols from Heaven_ , eh?" He chuckled, winking.

Nygma smiled. "Crane, we don't have all day. Your talents are needed. Stand up and come with us. I assure you, you will not be accosted."

"Very courteous of you, Nygma," Crane replied.

Crane walked out of a cell and gazed up at the towering figure of Bane. "Thanks, my Luchador friend," he said.

"You look thin, Crane," Bane commented. "I can show you some quick muscle building techniques to put some meat on those bones."

Crane smirked. "Prison food is horrible and upsets my stomach, I don't eat much. But I don't need much either. I have a good metabolism that takes care of my needs."

"Bane," Riddler began, "you can tell him about your large meat and protein diet later. We must make haste before Batman and his _Winglings_ learn where we are. We have a helicopter waiting for us on the roof."

"Ah, first-class transportation," Crane smirked. "Do I get a meal and an inflight movie, too? I so do fancy escargot right about now and I haven't watched the _A Clockwork Orange_ for a long while."

"That movie was demented, Crane," Riddler remarked, "although, I have always been a fan of Malcolm McDowell."

They took the stairs up to the roof. They had to, because Bane was too big for the elevator.

As they burst out onto the roof, Riddler shouted, over the noise of the propeller whirling, "Take us away, pilot!" as they prepared to get inside.

"Sure boss, whatever you say!"

Riddler turned to the pilot, and his eyes widened. Shocked, he saw Red Hood sitting in the pilot seat, with the actual pilot tied up in the copilot seat.

Red Hood raised a gun to Riddler's face as he switched off the engine with his other hand. "Fancy meeting you all the way up here. I used to like heights, I even had my own favourite gargoyle. But I leave the high flying to others these days. Cool copter, though. It was reported stolen a few days ago. With a friend's help, it was tracked here. Well, how can you not notice an unauthorized helicopter on the roof of a prison? I mean, C'mon, really?"

Riddler scowled. "Are you quite finished with the humour? You must get it from that insufferable Nightwing. I am not amused."

"You know who is not amused?" Red Hood thumbed out the window, and Riddler looked to see the Batplane hovering in quiet mode on the other side of the helicopter.

"At the last second, we decided to fly. Faster that way, or we'd miss you."

Nightwing emerged from behind a roof stack with his escrima sticks in hand. The canopy of the Batplane opened, and Batman and Red Robin emerged, jumping to the roof.

"You're so predictable, Nygma," Jason said, nudging Riddler out of the helicopter with his gun. "But you won't have to go far. You're right where you should be."  
"I hate to ask this," Red Robin said politely, with a sigh, but with a smirk. "But where's Robin?"

"Oh, the little annoying twerp is quite safe, I assure you," Riddler said with an arrogant grin. "In fact, he has never been more safe."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nightwing asked. "And, for once, I'm glad he's annoying someone else."

Crane snorted. "It would appear that our very short partnership has been annulled," Crane said. "They'll put more time to my sentence because of this prison break out debacle."

"Not yet, my unhinged friend," Nygma said with a slight chuckle.

Jason suddenly positioned his gun to the back of Nygma's head. "No funny business, time to surrender."

Riddler gave a sideways glance to Bane. Bane looked at him, his entire head covered in a mask. But with one small crinkle at the mouth, he wordlessly asked if he should attack? Riddler gave a small shake of the head.

"Very clever, Batman," Nygma said, as he looked around, surrounded by four members of the Batfamily. He then gave the Caped Crusader some congratulatory applause, his gloves masking most of the noise, as opposed to open hands. "I must give you and your children credit for solving my riddle so quickly. So, what gave it away?"

Red Robin said, "It was my doing, Nygma. I saw a correlation between other cases and this one. Your old partner Adam Nichols was busy funding other Rogue criminal enterprises."

"Ah yes, Adam Nichols, a very smart man indeed. Too bad he's dead now. But his riddles did give me food for thought. Pedestrian in design, but clever, especially the hidden ciphers. So, you figured out Nichols was the mysterious benefactor behind all those crimes, eh? What a clever boy you are."

"The arrogance is oozing out of you, Nygma," Nightwing said. "Now, once again, where is Robin?"

Crane cupped his hips. "This is getting monotonous. But I am impressed that you managed to figure out Adam Nichols' scheme to brainwash all those people to finance his operation. And I admit, he and I had partnership, when it came to my hallucinogenic gas at the Gotham Carnival that played havoc with young Robin's mind. Or, as much as I can remember about it. Someone erased my memory of the events using my own gas against me. I vaguely remember it all."

"Figuring things out wasn't difficult," Red Robin stated. "The secret to a good detective is to see things out of context to form conclusions based on clues left behind. Some clues are not that apparent, and you have to dig for them. But once you see a correlation, everything else becomes clear."

"How elegantly put," Nygma replied arrogantly. The villain then looked around, then put the forefinger of his left hand to his cheek. This was a signal for Bane to attack.

Bane attacked Red Robin first, since he was the closest and the smallest. Red Robin swung his bo-staff at Bane in an attempt to stop him. But the big man grabbed the bo-staff, yanked it out of Red Robin's hands, and quickly snapped it over his knee.

"Hey!" Red Robin whined. "That was one-of-a-kind! I just brought it out today. I've been working months on its new features. Damn you!"

"You wield a stick like a dog, little man," Bane taunted. "Come at me, if you dare?" Bane wiggled a finger.

Suddenly, Riddler ducked, opportunity posed, and whacked the gun out of Red Hood's and with his Q-Staff. He then pressed a button on his staff and sprayed smoke into Red Hood's face. Despite the mask, the smoke got through the ventilation. Red Hood began to cough, and Riddler pushed him back, to get into the helicopter.

At the same time, Bane grabbed Red Robin and squeezed him and a bear hug. Holding him tight, even though the hero struggled profusely, Bane also got into the helicopter, followed by Crane. Crane went to the pilot seat and started the helicopter.

With yet another hostage, Batman and Nightwing could do little. Riddler then took a small smoke canister, pulled the pin, and threw it onto the roof, masking their escape, as the helicopter began to ascend.

The canister exploded with a plumb of smoke, quickly masking the villains escape.

x x x

Nightwing grabbed his grappling gun from his belt and was about to shoot it at the helicopter, when Batman put up his hand and stopped him. The helicopter had got too far away and the tether rope would not reach if shot at this distance.

Batman slammed a fist into a palm.

"Déjà vu," Nightwing remarked, although not humorously.

Jason had stopped coughing, but he was a little winded. "Damn it!"

All of a sudden, an arrow shot up from the ground with a rope attached, and embedded itself and the brick wall. Arsenal quickly came up the face of the building, Nightwing watching him, reminding him of a time both he and Batman scaled up buildings as the Dynamic Duo.

Arsenal grabbed the edge of the roof and hauled himself up. He was breathing heavy. Jason helped him to his feet.

"Whoa! That was a tedious climb," he remarked. "I was waiting down there for you, Jason. Did you really think you'll have all the fun without me?"

But just then, he pulled out his bow and shot an arrow at the helicopter with a small rope. Remarkably, it embedded in the side of helicopter's metal shell.

The rope went taught, and all of a sudden Arsenal was yanked forward, unexpectedly, underestimating the force of the helicopter, and was pulled forward, the line also snapping, and he fell over the edge of the roof.

" _Whoa...Holy sh..._ "

Jason swore. "Roy!" he cried out.

Nightwing jumped off the edge of the roof in dramatic, aerodynamic fashion, his arms spread out like wings, and for a moment, was reliving his days as a member of the _Flying Grayson's_.

He dropped and caught Arsenal, then Nightwing shot a tether line with his grappling gun to the roof. The grappler latched on and swung back towards the prison walls. Roy grabbed onto the line after Nightwing caught him.

"Thanks buddy, I was almost a splatter on the pavement. Although, I'd probably make a very artistic splat."

"No time for jokes, Roy. This may hurt a little. Hang on!"

They hit a wall dead on, smacking into it like a bird would a window. Roy cried out in pain, almost letting go of the line. Then Nightwing, using his powerful legs, catapulted away from the building, strategically moving the line, and both heroes went crashing through a fifth floor window, and onto a desk, rolling onto the floor, shattered glass flying everywhere.

Arsenal moaned, has he and Nightwing shared the pain of the fall. Arsenal had come to land on his stomach, while Nightwing landed on his back.

"Oh man, I'm gonna feel that in the morning," Arsenal said.

Nightwing looked over and smiled. "Whatever fall you can walk away from is a good one, in my opinion."

"I haven't tried to get to my feet yet. How are you faring?"

"Never felt better. A few shards of glass, a few bruised tendons…" He felt a part of his head just below his hairline. "And I bleeding forehead, but nothing I can't handle."

Just then, the door to the room burst open. In fact, it was kicked open by Jason. Batman followed suit.

Nightwing was still laying on the floor. He cocked his head to look at Batman. "Hello, and who are you again?"

Batman scowled. He was not amused by Nightwing's humour especially after Red Robin had just been kidnapped. And yet, humour and jokes where the way for Nightwing to ease tension. But now was not the time.

Batman helped Nightwing up, and Jason helped Arsenal to his feet. None had any broken bones to speak of, but both were sore. From appearances, they had crashed into an empty room. Nightwing was thankful it was not occupied, otherwise they may have hurt someone when they came through the window.

Jason slammed a fist into a wall. "Damn it! That trickster did it again! This time he has Tim. What are royal fuck up this was! They say lightning never strikes twice. Bullshit!"

Nightwing put up his hands to calm him. "Take it easy, Jason. Every single member of the Batfamily has a GPS tracker. Damian's may have been switched off, buy Tim has a bionic tracker embedded in his skin. He anticipated something like this would happen."

"And he never told us? He's taking after short-stack and not telling us his plans."

Nightwing took out a small portable tracker from a pouch on his utility belt. He switched it on, but no signal came up. "Oh crap! Riddler must be using a very sophisticated anti-tracking system."

"So, Tim's lost, too? Is that what you're saying?"

Nightwing sighed defeated. "Yes. Looks like Nygma beat us again. And now he has Damian and Tim as hostages to do as he wishes. Let's hope they can wait it out until we can rescue them."

"I think the munchkin and the genius can take care of themselves," Arsenal remarked.

Jason gave him incredulous look. "You do realize that was one of the most stupidest things you've ever said, right? They hate each other. Those two teaming up together is like asking dogs and cats to live in peace. And we all know how well Titus and that feline Damian rescued get along so well at the Manor."

"You have a point," Nightwing agreed. "Let's just hope they don't _kill each other_ before we rescue them."

"Looks like we're going to have a lot of explaining to do about this mess," Arsenal remarked, looking around.

Suddenly, twelve security officers came to the door, armed to the teeth. The moment they saw Batman and the others, they lowered their guns.  
But like Arsenal said, they were going to have a lot of explaining to do. Especially why Dr. Jonathan Crane had escaped under their watch.

_To be continued..._

 


	9. Exposure

Riddler admitted throwing the money out of the helicopter was mere distraction which failed. His plan was for the crowd at Gotham City Square to distract the Batfamily while he went to Arkham Asylum to break Dr. Jonathan Crane out.

He hoped that the Batfamily would help the police calm the crowd, instead they tried to interfere with his plans at Arkham. In the end, it worked out better than he hoped.

He now had two prisoners from the infamous Batfamily, their GPS trackers blocked. But he had to be careful, they had been trained by Batman, and much like eels, these two Robin's could be very slippery if he wasn't careful. So, he blindfolded them and handcuffed both behind their backs.

The pair had been brought together after the helicopter landed. Riddler's new lair was a quaint place.

Bane took Red Robin to Robin for a short while, depositing them in a small room, before separating the two. Riddler did not want the pair together, in case they had some of secret code to speak with one another.

It wasn't uncommon for a code to be spoken in grunts or noises. By separating them, he could be rest assured, that no communication between them would be had. After all, he spoke to Nichols in the hidden cipher code right under Arkham Asylum's radar.

x x x

Drake had no idea where he was and where they had taken Damien after their brief reunion. Blindfolded, he could only imagine where he was. But from the sounds of machinery and lab equipment, he had a good inkling of his position.

He thought this must be Adam Nichols secondary site, and Riddler now has control of it, after murdering Nichols.

With his hands behind his back and handcuffed, he was led down a long corridor. Every once in a while, he would listen to the echoes that bounced off the metallic walls, much like bat echolocation to get his position, and he made a mental map of every step he took and every corner he turned.

When he was walking too slowly, someone pushed him forward, and Drake staggered, and almost fell to his hands and knees. They took him to a room that echoed when they spoke, two of Riddler's men escorted him inside.

He was then manhandled and strapped to what felt like a medical bed. He was spread eagle and his wrists and ankles were locked in vices. Then the indignity happened, and the two who were escorts, enjoying his in-humility, stripped him to his briefs, cutting off his uniform, but keeping his mask and blindfold on.

He protested, profusely, but they did not relent. And he feared the worse: that he was about to be violated. But they did no such thing. Instead, they attached electrodes to different and sensitive parts of his body, that when the electricity was turned on would most likely generate the most painful of sensations.

They had told him to shut up multiple times when he shouted at them and when they were finished they left him alone in the room, still blindfolded.

The room felt cold and there was a hint of antiseptic in the air, much like someone would find in a hospital room.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" His voice echoed. From the acoustics, he could determine a square footage of the room he was in, approximately 20 x 20 feet, judging by the reverberations of his bouncing voice off the walls.

He struggled against his restraints, but to no avail. What did they have planned for him?

The electrodes attached to the different parts of his body were part and parcel of psychosomatic behaviour therapy, and they could also be used for torture. He had been through worse, but that's not to say he liked it.

He heard a door open, shoes on the floor, then nothing. He suspected they were standing close to him. He sniffed the air, using another one of his senses, and knew someone needed a shower.

Was it Riddler? No, Nygma had a tendency of cleanliness, and the last time Drake was in the helicopter, he could smell the man's cologne.

So, it had to be: "Crane? I can't see you right now, but I can smell you. Let me go! What are your plans? And where did you take Robin?"

The mysterious person chuckled. "Oh, you are quite mistaken. I'm not Dr. Jonathan Crane, far from it, but am I a doctor. I have doctorates in both psychology and neuropathology. I guess you could say I'm a jack-of-all-trades."

"You're a _jack_ , alright. Who are you then?"

"I believe the most important question is: Who are you?" The man cupped Drake's chin and turned his head from side to side, as if examining him. He then attached electrodes to Drake's temples underneath his blindfold.

"Don't touch me! And why did you remove my clothes?"

"You don't need them," the man said. "However, I did instruct that you at least keep your dignity. Like I said, I have many doctorates, but my major is in Parapsychology. I enjoy diving deep into people's minds. I guess you could say that both Dr. Crane and I share a passion. Why was he broken him out of Arkham, you're probably thinking? His expertise are viable to this operation. But I did well without him. But like all operations, expansion is necessary for success. Crane and I have the same ideals at heart."

"If you're going to torture me, get it over with. But, know this, I've been trained by the best, suffered through the worse, experienced unimaginable pain and suffering, bones broken, my spine nearly snapped in half, but throughout it all, I'm still here. A true fighter never relents and goes down with the ship."

"Admirable. Batman truly has a worthy successor. But when it comes to pain, courage means nothing. You are a very smart kid, and I'm impressed that you figured out the cipher so quickly. But intelligence can be both a gift and a burden. Your gift may have led you here, but the burden that you will have to suffer will be a great one."

Electricity coursed through Drake's body suddenly and he screamed. He was unprepared for it, especially when it coursed through the very sensitive parts of his body.

The shock was only two-seconds long, but it was enough to get Drake's attention.

A man leaned in closer two Drake's right ear, Drake could feel the man's breath. But his mind was more focused on the pain the electricity delivered.

The man spoke softly, "I believe you already know who I am. I left clues, but some clues are so obscured that you fail to notice them until later on when it's too late."

Drake was suddenly splashed with a bucket of water, and he coughed. Then the electricity course through his body again with even more intensity, the water intensifying it.

Drake screamed again.

x x x

Nygma and Crane looked through a pane of one-way glass into the room where Red Robin was being tortured by his captor. Supposedly, the room was soundproof, too, but the teen's screams, so loud, could be heard.

They both looked on with glee as Red Robin, stripped to the bare minimum, cried out, as electricity coursed through his body by electrodes attached by a mini portable AMP generator, a simple, but effective device.

"He loves his work," Crane remarked about the doctor.

"As you do, Crane," Nygma remarked back. "Both of your methods are extreme, but the end justified the means. However I don't think he's actually asking for any information. I believe Dr. Nichols just having some fun."

"How you tricked Batman into believing Nichols died in the warehouse was brilliant, using a homeless man as a dummy, blowing him up, when Batman's back was turned," Crane went on. "Tricking Batman is no small feat."

Nygma smiled. "How goes the other boy?"

Crane frowned, turning away from the window. "Strangely odd," he voiced concerned. "The boy has an unusual tolerance to my drugs, as if he's able to withstand harsh mental stress factors much like a Buddhist monk."

Riddler gave a simile sinister smile, said, "Where does Batman gets these kids, I don't know, but I trust you'll break him, Crane. I have the utmost faith in your abilities. Using riddles to play with Batman is my forte, but using his own allies against him will be better. Is he willing to sacrifice his own people to win? I wager the Caped Crusader and his 'Winglings', as I like to call them, at this moment, are attempting to decipher my latest riddle I left for them on roof of Arkham Asylum before we left."

"Don't be so impulsive, Nygma. You tend to get carried away, forging new riddles to taunt Batman, and he always seems to outwit you."

Riddler's smile turned sour. He raised his Q-Staff and brought it just under Crane's chin, pressing a button that exposed the smallest edge of a hidden curved blade. Crane swallowed nervously.

"It's my _raison d'etre_ , my reason for being," Nygma explained factually. "To taunt Batman is my everything. For what is battle-of-the-minds without a worthy opponent? It is the essence of what I do. I trust we have an understanding?"

Crane momentarily looked Nygma in the eyes, or rather his mask, then eyed his staff, just hovering near his jugular. Riddler's Q-Staff what was an enigma of its own. And it was well known to hide many interesting and unseemly weapons.

"Quite, Nygma, we do. Now get that thing out of my face, so I can torture the brat," Crane said, grabbing the staff by its handle. Riddler left it in place for a time, for intimidation purposes, even holding firm against Crane's grip, as Crane attempted to push it away. But then he retracted the blade and lowered the staff. "You really are something else, Nygma. No wonder you are in the top five of Batman's Rogues."

Riddler smirked. "And that is a distinction I hold in high regard. For if you are not high on the food chain, then you will be devoured by lesser beings. _Adaptation is essential in an ever changing world_ : Darwin."

Riddler was a succinctly dangerous man to tangle with, Crane concluded.

After they enjoyed a few more moments of Red Robin being tortured, they left, entered a long corridor, took a left, and came to a large open pool area.

Riddler's new secret lair was an abandoned recreational centre, and Adam Nichols secondary site. It was a perfect location where no one would disturb them. The land was bought by Adam Nichols under an assumed alias. It had been sitting empty for years before Adam Nichols bought it, a new modern recreational centre was built miles away.

It was the secondary site, but it was a place where Nichols did most of his work, bringing most of his victim/subjects here, including the guard he used at Arkham Asylum, brainwashing him.

Tricking Batman in a believing Nichols was dead was child's play. As Batman attempted to flee, believing Nichols' bomb vest was about to explode. There was a switch, and a homeless man was put in Nicholas place in the warehouse. Nichols fled with ease. It was a simple bait and switch.

And Riddler was pleased that Nichols was still alive, for he admired the man for his brilliance.

Robin's arms and legs were chained to the wall in the deep end of an empty swimming pool. Water was up to his knees. He tried to move round, but his movements was very limited.

Riddler and Crane approached him from the deep edge of the pool, and looked down. Robin looked up.

Damian growled animalistically. "What the hell do you have planned, Riddler? And where's Red Robin?"

Wordlessly, Crane went around to the shallow end of the pool, and then jumped in. Riddler stood above Robin at the pool's deep edge. There was no water, so Crane didn't immediately get wet. He took out a small box that had a syringe in it from a pocket, and primed it.

"Well, young Robin," Nygma began, "it appears you have a remarkable tolerance to the good doctor's efforts."

Robin spat at Crane. "That quack? I've had poison that's had more of a kick to it. Whose that other weirdo?"

"Oh, you mean _Doctor_ Adam Nichols, the man who supposedly died in the warehouse, witnessed by Batman. He faked his death. He's one of the smartest man I know. He was expelled for questionable behaviour, posed for a great medical career. He opened a toy store in its stead for gifted youths, and befriended me during the Arkham letter penpal program. He told me everything I wanted to know about him in the letters we exchanged. Albeit, through ciphers. I threw most in the letters away, because I didn't want anyone else to know, and the guard at Arkham, destroyed most of the evidence that the Warden may have collected before he died."

Crane approached, and Robin looked at the syringe. He tried to back away, but his back slammed into the wall.

Crane entered the water, syringe in hand.

"Get away from me with that thing, you psychopath! You should know that your hallucinogenic drugs don't work on me. They're too weak!"

Crane smiled smugly. "Oh, trust me. I learn from my mistakes. This new batch of drugs, sad to say, are not coming from me. This is one of Nichols inventions. I'm jealous, I admit that. But as they say, once you stop learning, you're dead. And I plan on living a very long time."

Damian lunged as far as he could, gnashing his teeth at Crane, his movements limited by the chains, as Crane came at him with a syringe.

And then it happened. Robin's mask peeled halfway off, exposing his eyes. Whether it was sweat, inside the pool area it was humid, or it was moisture from the water, regardless, the damage was done.

Damian Wayne's eyes widened with shock the moment he knew his identity had been exposed. He looked at both Nygma and Crane collectively, an equal dumbfounded look were on their faces.

Crane pointed, then reacted retrospectively. "I know who you are. I've seen your face before. You were at the carnival, and I subjected you to my hallucinogenic drugs. Yes, It's all coming back to me now! Young Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne. You used my own hallucinogenic drugs against me to make me forget your identity, and it almost worked, until this trigger. Which means. . ."

Crane snapped a glance up at Riddler, who looked stunned, but then smiled coyly.

And Riddler began to laugh. "I have you now, Caped Crusader. The greatest riddle of all is now revealed, by accident of all things, and you owe it to your son betraying your secret. Somewhat disappointing, as I would have liked to expose Batman's secret on my own, and in my own time. But, it is what it is."

Crane put the syringe back into the box. "I won't need this anymore. What more secrets do I need to reveal, other than this huge one. I love happy accidents."

Riddler grinned. "A happy accident give us penicillin, but this dose of medicine will be toxic for the Caped Crusader. I will ransom you off for a king's treasure, Damian Wayne, or I'll expose your father to the whole world. Bruce Wayne will I lose everything. It will be the complete and other defeat of everything he has built. Batman will be no more. All thanks to his son."

Damian growled, but then snorted deflated.

Riddler laughed, and the recreation centre reverberated with it.

_To be continued..._

 


	10. Tortured And Death

Damian had been moved from the pool area to a makeshift cell converted from an old bathroom, and it wasn't the best smelling. He kept smelling something like a dead mouse, and it was somewhere either in old plumbing or in the wall.

Both of which were unlikely escape routes if he did manage to break his metal shackles attached to chains to the wall.

Jason often call him "Short-Stack", because of his short stature. But he was only thirteen years old and he still had a lot of growing to do.

"Okay, I'm small," he admitted, as he looked down the cavernous hole that used to hold a toilet, and most likely where the bad smell was coming from, "but I'm not that small. If whatever died down that hole got trapped, I certainly wouldn't have a chance if I could escape this place."

His makeshift cell door was reinforced metal and locked with a deadbolt from the outside. There was no chance of him picking it, there was also no windows to see out of, and the ceiling vent was too high for him to reach.

He was virtually trapped in a smelly room, with no running water, and they hadn't even offered him anything to eat for nearly twenty-four hours.

At the moment, Grayson's stomach rumbling whenever he was hungry had nothing on his. The noises his stomach was making right now would beat Grayson's hands down.

But he was disciplined. Once he spent three days without food or water when he was training in a Buddhist mortuary, fasting. His stomach growled then, too, so this was nothing.

That didn't take away the fact that he was hungry.

He chalked it up to living with his father and Pennyworth, eating all that rich food. Alfred cooked in such a way that he brought out all the tasty juices. Pennyworth could make anything taste good. Now he was making himself even more hungry thinking about it and his stomach reacted, making loud noises. He didn't know why, but it actually gave him a chuckle because it echoed the room in a monstrous manner.

He didn't know what time it was. The only light was artificial and it was embedded in the ceiling. He had thought about short-circuiting the wires, playing with one of the wall outlets that was near his position, but they would only move him to another makeshift cell and maybe some place even less hospitable.

He had the inkling of where he was. He saw a news caption on television about the old Gotham Recreation Centre being closed down after the new one was built. The new centre was state-of-the-art, this place was built long before he was even born. It was now dilapidated and abandoned, a place used mostly by transients.

He had enough chain length to sit, so he sat down, cross-legged, closed his eyes, and try to meditate. It was something he had learned from years in living with his grandfather, Ra's Al Ghul and mother Talia, in Switzerland. It was also another form of training.

_A good warrior is a calm warrior. A warrior must think on his feet in the battlefield. If he's frustrated he loses focus. Think, access, react. Grayson taught me that motto. He said it was from his days on the Bludhaven Police Force. But I bet Father taught Grayson that before hand._

Being the son of Bruce Wayne, he chose to emulate himself after his father. Batman was calm under pressure against even the most deadliest foe. And he wanted to be just like his father, while at the same time also learn from the others, especially Grayson.

Grayson had a way about him that he not only, but in his own way, emulated Batman when fighting criminals. He had been taught by the best. Grayson was slick, fast, and smooth in his fighting style. Damian wanted to emulate himself after certain qualities Grayson possessed, and eventually, he too, wanted to look just like Grayson in tights. All the ladies loved Nightwing.

He tried to calm his mind, but he kept thinking of Drake. Where was he? Damian had not seen him since Nygma brought the two of them to this place.  
His eyes had only been closed for a few moments before they snapped open again, when he heard the deadbolt unlock.

He got to his feet, then breathed out a small gasp in surprise.

Bane's muscular and bulky form took up the entire frame of the door. But that is not what surprised him, it was what the villain was carrying: Drake. Drake's form was limp less and he was stripped to his underwear. He also appeared to have bruises all over his body and marks where raw skin had begun to bleed.

"You bastard! What the hell did you do to him?" Damian demanded.

Bane dropped Drake to the floor. Drake let out a prominent "Oof!" but nothing more. With closer inspection, Damian could see that the majority of Drake's injuries were electrical burns and enhanced by water moisture. They must have tortured him with electro-shock.

One thing he did notice was Drake's nipples, were as red as beets. They must have put pads with electrodes directly onto them to create the maximum amount of pain, as nipples are one of the most sensitive parts on the body, second only to the genitals.

Damian went to him, his chains gave him enough slack to do so. For once in his life, he was actually worried about Tim Drake.

"Drake, Drake! Speak to me!" He and Drake often argued about anything and everything, mostly about their place in the Batfamily. Damian looked up at Bane with a sneer. "Damn it! What the hell did you creeps do to him?"

Bane didn't speak, but he did part way for another man. He was shorter and more slender, and wearing a doctor's lab coat. Damian had never seen him before, but already he despised his guts.

"Are you the one responsible for this? If so, I promise you you'll get the same in return but a thousandfold!"

"Tsk, tsk," said the man, who had his hands in the lab coat pockets. He looked collective. "He's only exhausted, and if he hadn't fainted, we would have continued with the interrogation. I was advised to hold off on the rest of the torture. However, we did gather some viable information from him, as we did from you, and we didn't even have to torture you for it, Damian Wayne. Some people just can't handle pain." He stepped in closer, but just out of reach. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Junior Birdboy. You have a high tolerance for pain and you are resistant to most of Dr. Jonathan Crane's 'drug therapy'. I would like to learn more about this, and perhaps test the limits have your tolerance. I enjoy testing my patience for weaknesses, it gives me so much joy to listen to them scream. Timothy Drake screamed a lot, but who wouldn't when a massive amount of volts of electricity course through a body."

"You sinister bastard, I swear I'm going to kill you!"

"Let's test that resolve…"

Bane grabbed Damian by the scruff of his neck, as the Doctor unlocked his chains. The massive villain held Damien aloft, and despite his struggles, freeing himself from the strong grip was impossible.

"Oh, forgive my rudeness," the other said. "Allow me to introduce myself since we have never met. You may know me by another name, your family has been hunting me and my partner. I have gone by many names, pseudonyms and aliases. But, you may call me Dr. Adam Nichols; I will be your torturer."

They took Damian down a corridor, and he struggled the entire way. They ended up in a medical lab and Damian was easily strapped to a metallic table.

Bane held him down while Nichols first repositioned each clasp for size and height, and then clamped is limbs down in a spread eagle position, even Damian's neck and waist. The table was then adjusted up right so Damian and Nichols were face-to-face. Damian kept struggling and protesting. That all ceased when Bane delivered a punch to Damian's stomach. And Damian heaved, gasping in breath.

"That's better," Nichols said, and then began to attach electrodes to Damian's temples. "Unlike Timothy Drake, I only need to attach them to your head, whereas I tortured Drake everywhere. He resisted me greatly, but everyone has their limits. I found Timothy Drake's. Now, it's time to find yours. And besides, if I stripped you, it would appear awkward. You are only thirteen years old."

"I'm going to kill you, Nichols, I swear it!" Damian said, when he found his voice after being punched by Bane.

"I don't fear you, child. You and Drake are at my complete mercy. Your GPS beacons were immediately disabled by a blocker, Riddler thinks of everything. Batman has no clue where you are, unless he figures out that stupid riddle by Nygma he left. I used to admire him, we played the most sinister games in our correspondence letters while he was in Arkham Asylum. I helped break him out, but I'm beginning to regret my decision now."

"Do you now?" came Riddler's voice from the doorway. Crane was with him. They both entered the medical lab. "Let me remind you, Nichols, that you need my connections in the criminal world to continue your experiments. Did you not think I would not figure out why you broke me out of Arkham? It wasn't for the company, it was for whom I know. Your riddles were a farce, good to a point, but in retrospect, in need of much improvement."

"They were a means to an end, mere child's play," Nichols responded. "I knew that your brilliance would figure out the hidden ciphers within the riddles without problem. And I did research to devise the riddles. I needed to capture your interest, otherwise you would not have responded to my letters. Why respond to an amateur? But I am smarter than the average person, a mastermind of many talents."

Riddler nodded slightly agreeing. "Your riddles did capture my attention, and when I deciphered your hidden messages, I needed you to break me out. But play times over. Batman is coming. My riddle will assure it."

"Why? What sort of riddle did you give him? You're childishness will jeopardize this entire operation. I've told you not to test fate! I've put too much effort and capital over the years into this project to have you bring everything crashing down now."

Bane suddenly reached out and clutched Nichols by the throat. He held him, his feet dangling above the floor. Bane pivoted, and positioned Nichols, so he and Riddler were facing each other.

Nichols struggled against Bane's grip, Damian observed. He had been quietly listening to the entire conversation between Riddler and Nichols in the hopes of collecting Intel for when the others came to rescue him. He was disappointed the GPS in his uniform has been blocked, but he was pleased that Nygma had made a fatal error and sending his father a riddle.

"We all have two lives, Doctor Nichols," Riddler then said. "One we live, and one we dream. Unfortunately for you, neither of yours interest me anymore. Do it."

And Bane snapped Nichols' neck, then dropped his body to the floor.

Riddler gazed down. "He may have tricked Batman to think that he died in the warehouse explosion, but he was a fool in telling me everything about his operation. Only fools die stupidly."

Crane stepped over Nichols corpse and went to Damian. He touched his head, and Damian struggled when Crane repositioned the electrodes.

Suddenly, Damian decided to do something bold, and he bit Crane's hand. He then spit out, as Crane backed off.

"Shit!" Crane said, as he rubbed his hand.

"Shit is right," Damian said. "I'm going to get rabies now."

Crane backhandedly slapped Damian with his other hand, and Damian recoiled and hissed in pain.

"Serves you right, you little annoying brat," Crane grit his teeth. Even without his Scarecrow mask, Crane looked like a walking Scarecrow, with his sunken face and eyes.

"You told me you can recreate Nichols' research, Crane. Can you?" Riddler inquired.

"No problem, Nygma," Crane replied. "The fundamentals are straightforward, his field of expertise aligned with my own, so the technology will be easy peasy. Brainwashing these two will be easy."

"Good," Riddler said with a broad smile. He looked down at Nichols' body. "Bane, after you have disposed of this trash, Batman well need a proper welcome. I know he just coming. Please give him and his kids a heartfelt welcome. You have crushed Batman's spine in the past, perhaps it is time to have a repeat performance. I will need time to implement my next move."

"Sure, no problem," the Spaniard said, picking up Nichols' body, and flopping it onto the shoulder, then he left the lab.

Riddler turned to Damian, approached the table. He put his hand close to Damian's mouth and tempted him to bite it. Damian lunged for it, but Riddler was too quick, pulling back within milliseconds. He smirked. Then his demeanour turned very dark.

With an evil smile, Nygma bent over slightly, glaring hard. He had his mask on, but Damian could swear he was looking into the eyes of the Devil himself.  
Riddler said, "As for you, Damian Wayne, let's see if Daddy can do the unthinkable and defeat his enemy while at the same time destroy his natural born son."

Riddler looked down at Tim Drake and laughed.

"One down and one to go, do your worst, Crane," Riddler said.

"With pleasure," Crane said, and turned up the ampage from the probable generator to full, and electricity revived through the electrodes, through Damian's skull and into his brain.

Damian Wayne screamed louder than ever hurt himself before, and he thought, for sure, he was going to die— _again!_

_To be continued..._

 


	11. Torturned And Death

Damian had been moved from the pool area to a makeshift cell converted from an old bathroom, and it wasn't the best smelling. He kept smelling something like a dead mouse, and it was somewhere either in old plumbing or in the wall.

Both of which were unlikely escape routes if he did manage to break his metal shackles attached to chains to the wall.

Jason often call him "Short-Stack", because of his short stature. But he was only thirteen years old and he still had a lot of growing to do.

"Okay, I'm small," he admitted, as he looked down the cavernous hole that used to hold a toilet, and most likely where the bad smell was coming from, "but I'm not that small. If whatever died down that hole got trapped, I certainly wouldn't have a chance if I could escape this place."

His makeshift cell door was reinforced metal and locked with a deadbolt from the outside. There was no chance of him picking it, there was also no windows to see out of, and the ceiling vent was too high for him to reach.

He was virtually trapped in a smelly room, with no running water, and they hadn't even offered him anything to eat for nearly twenty-four hours.

At the moment, Grayson's stomach rumbling whenever he was hungry had nothing on his. The noises his stomach was making right now would beat Grayson's hands down.

But he was disciplined. Once he spent three days without food or water when he was training in a Buddhist mortuary, fasting. His stomach growled then, too, so this was nothing.

That didn't take away the fact that he was hungry.

He chalked it up to living with his father and Pennyworth, eating all that rich food. Alfred cooked in such a way that he brought out all the tasty juices. Pennyworth could make anything taste good. Now he was making himself even more hungry thinking about it and his stomach reacted, making loud noises. He didn't know why, but it actually gave him a chuckle because it echoed the room in a monstrous manner.

He didn't know what time it was. The only light was artificial and it was embedded in the ceiling. He had thought about short-circuiting the wires, playing with one of the wall outlets that was near his position, but they would only move him to another makeshift cell and maybe some place even less hospitable.

He had the inkling of where he was. He saw a news caption on television about the old Gotham Recreation Centre being closed down after the new one was built. The new centre was state-of-the-art, this place was built long before he was even born. It was now dilapidated and abandoned, a place used mostly by transients.

He had enough chain length to sit, so he sat down, cross-legged, closed his eyes, and try to meditate. It was something he had learned from years in living with his grandfather, Ra's Al Ghul and mother Talia, in Switzerland. It was also another form of training.

_A good warrior is a calm warrior. A warrior must think on his feet in the battlefield. If he's frustrated he loses focus. Think, access, react. Grayson taught me that motto. He said it was from his days on the Bludhaven Police Force. But I bet Father taught Grayson that before hand._

Being the son of Bruce Wayne, he chose to emulate himself after his father. Batman was calm under pressure against even the most deadliest foe. And he wanted to be just like his father, while at the same time also learn from the others, especially Grayson.

Grayson had a way about him that he not only, but in his own way, emulated Batman when fighting criminals. He had been taught by the best. Grayson was slick, fast, and smooth in his fighting style. Damian wanted to emulate himself after certain qualities Grayson possessed, and eventually, he too, wanted to look just like Grayson in tights. All the ladies loved Nightwing.

He tried to calm his mind, but he kept thinking of Drake. Where was he? Damian had not seen him since Nygma brought the two of them to this place.  
His eyes had only been closed for a few moments before they snapped open again, when he heard the deadbolt unlock.

He got to his feet, then breathed out a small gasp in surprise.

Bane's muscular and bulky form took up the entire frame of the door. But that is not what surprised him, it was what the villain was carrying: Drake. Drake's form was limp less and he was stripped to his underwear. He also appeared to have bruises all over his body and marks where raw skin had begun to bleed.

"You bastard! What the hell did you do to him?" Damian demanded.

Bane dropped Drake to the floor. Drake let out a prominent "Oof!" but nothing more. With closer inspection, Damian could see that the majority of Drake's injuries were electrical burns and enhanced by water moisture. They must have tortured him with electro-shock.

One thing he did notice was Drake's nipples, were as red as beets. They must have put pads with electrodes directly onto them to create the maximum amount of pain, as nipples are one of the most sensitive parts on the body, second only to the genitals.

Damian went to him, his chains gave him enough slack to do so. For once in his life, he was actually worried about Tim Drake.

"Drake, Drake! Speak to me!" He and Drake often argued about anything and everything, mostly about their place in the Batfamily. Damian looked up at Bane with a sneer. "Damn it! What the hell did you creeps do to him?"

Bane didn't speak, but he did part way for another man. He was shorter and more slender, and wearing a doctor's lab coat. Damian had never seen him before, but already he despised his guts.

"Are you the one responsible for this? If so, I promise you you'll get the same in return but a thousandfold!"

"Tsk, tsk," said the man, who had his hands in the lab coat pockets. He looked collective. "He's only exhausted, and if he hadn't fainted, we would have continued with the interrogation. I was advised to hold off on the rest of the torture. However, we did gather some viable information from him, as we did from you, and we didn't even have to torture you for it, Damian Wayne. Some people just can't handle pain." He stepped in closer, but just out of reach. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Junior Birdboy. You have a high tolerance for pain and you are resistant to most of Dr. Jonathan Crane's 'drug therapy'. I would like to learn more about this, and perhaps test the limits have your tolerance. I enjoy testing my patience for weaknesses, it gives me so much joy to listen to them scream. Timothy Drake screamed a lot, but who wouldn't when a massive amount of volts of electricity course through a body."

"You sinister bastard, I swear I'm going to kill you!"

"Let's test that resolve…"

Bane grabbed Damian by the scruff of his neck, as the Doctor unlocked his chains. The massive villain held Damien aloft, and despite his struggles, freeing himself from the strong grip was impossible.

"Oh, forgive my rudeness," the other said. "Allow me to introduce myself since we have never met. You may know me by another name, your family has been hunting me and my partner. I have gone by many names, pseudonyms and aliases. But, you may call me Dr. Adam Nichols; I will be your torturer."

They took Damian down a corridor, and he struggled the entire way. They ended up in a medical lab and Damian was easily strapped to a metallic table.

Bane held him down while Nichols first repositioned each clasp for size and height, and then clamped is limbs down in a spread eagle position, even Damian's neck and waist. The table was then adjusted up right so Damian and Nichols were face-to-face. Damian kept struggling and protesting. That all ceased when Bane delivered a punch to Damian's stomach. And Damian heaved, gasping in breath.

"That's better," Nichols said, and then began to attach electrodes to Damian's temples. "Unlike Timothy Drake, I only need to attach them to your head, whereas I tortured Drake everywhere. He resisted me greatly, but everyone has their limits. I found Timothy Drake's. Now, it's time to find yours. And besides, if I stripped you, it would appear awkward. You are only thirteen years old."

"I'm going to kill you, Nichols, I swear it!" Damian said, when he found his voice after being punched by Bane.

"I don't fear you, child. You and Drake are at my complete mercy. Your GPS beacons were immediately disabled by a blocker, Riddler thinks of everything. Batman has no clue where you are, unless he figures out that stupid riddle by Nygma he left. I used to admire him, we played the most sinister games in our correspondence letters while he was in Arkham Asylum. I helped break him out, but I'm beginning to regret my decision now."

"Do you now?" came Riddler's voice from the doorway. Crane was with him. They both entered the medical lab. "Let me remind you, Nichols, that you need my connections in the criminal world to continue your experiments. Did you not think I would not figure out why you broke me out of Arkham? It wasn't for the company, it was for whom I know. Your riddles were a farce, good to a point, but in retrospect, in need of much improvement."

"They were a means to an end, mere child's play," Nichols responded. "I knew that your brilliance would figure out the hidden ciphers within the riddles without problem. And I did research to devise the riddles. I needed to capture your interest, otherwise you would not have responded to my letters. Why respond to an amateur? But I am smarter than the average person, a mastermind of many talents."

Riddler nodded slightly agreeing. "Your riddles did capture my attention, and when I deciphered your hidden messages, I needed you to break me out. But play times over. Batman is coming. My riddle will assure it."

"Why? What sort of riddle did you give him? You're childishness will jeopardize this entire operation. I've told you not to test fate! I've put too much effort and capital over the years into this project to have you bring everything crashing down now."

Bane suddenly reached out and clutched Nichols by the throat. He held him, his feet dangling above the floor. Bane pivoted, and positioned Nichols, so he and Riddler were facing each other.

Nichols struggled against Bane's grip, Damian observed. He had been quietly listening to the entire conversation between Riddler and Nichols in the hopes of collecting Intel for when the others came to rescue him. He was disappointed the GPS in his uniform has been blocked, but he was pleased that Nygma had made a fatal error and sending his father a riddle.

"We all have two lives, Doctor Nichols," Riddler then said. "One we live, and one we dream. Unfortunately for you, neither of yours interest me anymore. Do it."

And Bane snapped Nichols' neck, then dropped his body to the floor.

Riddler gazed down. "He may have tricked Batman to think that he died in the warehouse explosion, but he was a fool in telling me everything about his operation. Only fools die stupidly."

Crane stepped over Nichols corpse and went to Damian. He touched his head, and Damian struggled when Crane repositioned the electrodes.

Suddenly, Damian decided to do something bold, and he bit Crane's hand. He then spit out, as Crane backed off.

"Shit!" Crane said, as he rubbed his hand.

"Shit is right," Damian said. "I'm going to get rabies now."

Crane backhandedly slapped Damian with his other hand, and Damian recoiled and hissed in pain.

"Serves you right, you little annoying brat," Crane grit his teeth. Even without his Scarecrow mask, Crane looked like a walking Scarecrow, with his sunken face and eyes.

"You told me you can recreate Nichols' research, Crane. Can you?" Riddler inquired.

"No problem, Nygma," Crane replied. "The fundamentals are straightforward, his field of expertise aligned with my own, so the technology will be easy peasy. Brainwashing these two will be easy."

"Good," Riddler said with a broad smile. He looked down at Nichols' body. "Bane, after you have disposed of this trash, Batman well need a proper welcome. I know he just coming. Please give him and his kids a heartfelt welcome. You have crushed Batman's spine in the past, perhaps it is time to have a repeat performance. I will need time to implement my next move."

"Sure, no problem," the Spaniard said, picking up Nichols' body, and flopping it onto the shoulder, then he left the lab.

Riddler turned to Damian, approached the table. He put his hand close to Damian's mouth and tempted him to bite it. Damian lunged for it, but Riddler was too quick, pulling back within milliseconds. He smirked. Then his demeanour turned very dark.

With an evil smile, Nygma bent over slightly, glaring hard. He had his mask on, but Damian could swear he was looking into the eyes of the Devil himself.  
Riddler said, "As for you, Damian Wayne, let's see if Daddy can do the unthinkable and defeat his enemy while at the same time destroy his natural born son."

Riddler looked down at Tim Drake and laughed.

"One down and one to go, do your worst, Crane," Riddler said.

"With pleasure," Crane said, and turned up the ampage from the probable generator to full, and electricity revived through the electrodes, through Damian's skull and into his brain.

Damian Wayne screamed louder than ever hurt himself before, and he thought, for sure, he was going to die— _again!_

_To be continued..._

 


	12. Batfamily VS Batfamily

The Batmobile pulled up with its stealth mode active to the old recreation centre.

It was a square building in the heart of what was once a booming community, but was now home to transients, delinquents, drug addicts, and gang wars. The exterior of the building was covered in graffiti.

Jason pulled up on his motorcycle with its electric hybrid engine with Nightwing sitting behind him. Nightwing had grabbed onto Jason's waist tightly as they sped down the highway and through the streets the whole way.

"I like fast moving things, but that was surreal," Nightwing said, dismounting. "I missed most of the beautiful scenery."

"If you mean the filth, grime, and helplessness of the people who live here, Dick," Barbara said from the Batmobile, as the canopy slid back, "then you need glasses. I thought this area was going to be revitalized?"

"Wayne Industries has picked up the project," Batman said. "We've begun conducting surveys of the area, and there's a model being built for its reconstruction. But I'm told that the owner of this building needs to be contacted, so we can purchase it to proceed with a project. It's the only thing holding things up. My guess is that Adam Nichols is the one who owns this property."

The old recreation centre looked spooky and ghastly, and abandoned years ago to make way for a newer, more modernized facility. They had come under the cover of darkness in the hope of sneaking up on their foes, but no doubt Riddler knew they were already here. CCTV cameras were everywhere.

Batgirl stopped, actually froze to the spot. "Hey guys, do you feel that? Feels like the earth is moving."

Jason elbowed Dick. "You've trained her well, you'll going to have to show me that trick," Jason said.

Nightwing shook his head. "Real classy, Jay," Dick said. "But no, um, I'm feeling it, too. What is that?" He crouched down and put a hand to the ground, it was shaking.

Just then, the closest wall to them seemed to explode outwards, brick and mortar projected towards them.

Nightwing leapt out of the way, Jason ducked behind his bike, and Batman and Batgirl dropped behind the Batmobile, as debris showered down upon them.

Bane burst through the rest of the remaining wall. He had his Venom formula full, his muscles were bursting with power, veins snaked, and he was ready for a fight.

"Any one have a slingshot?" Batgirl asked, looking over the hood of the Batmobile, comparing the situation to the biblical story of David and Goliath.

Batman pulled out a Batarang, rose to his feet, and threw it at Bane's head, but the massive villain caught it in midair and crushed it in hand with ease.  
Nightwing and Jason surrounded him while Batgirl and Batman filled in the middle. Nightwing reached back, and pulled out his escrima sticks from their magnetic clasps on his back and twirled them.

"Your puny weapons will not hurt me," Bane said with a heavy Spanish accent. "My skin is like Kevlar when the Venom serum is injected into my veins. I can withstand anything you throw at me, Batfamily. So, do your worse. It will do you no good."

"I thought you were going to stop using the Venom serum, Bane?" Batman said. "It's toxic to you, and you know it!"

"I can handle it in moderate doses, Caped Crusader, so don't worry about me," Bane laughed. "You should worry about yourselves, and the future that is yet to come."

Jason fired both his guns at Bane. He unholstered them so quickly from his thigh holders that no one had seen him do it. They called Red Hood a modern-day gunslinger, because he was so fast with his guns. No one sees him pull them out until the very last second.

But they were nothing against the power of Bane. Bane swatted the bullets out of the air as if they were mere insects. He had metallic gloves on that also acted like shields, so they bounced off.

"Your bullets tickle me, Red Hood," Bane chuckled. "And your actions are so predictable. You shoot first and ask questions later. Tell me something, do you get many answers that way?"

"Depends on the questions that I ask and how long the person has to live," Jason answered back. "I try not to shoot to kill, just severely hurt and maim. Then I ask my questions. It all depends on the approach and what goal I have in mind. You know what, we've already played with you, and I'm already bored. You don't play by the rules, and I'm told I don't play by them either. Do you like Christmas musicals?"

Bane looked confused.

"There's one I enjoy every single year, not necessarily for the music, but there's a lot of pretty women in leotards who stand on their tippy toes, and walk around like gazelles. You may know the musical I'm talking about—"

All of a sudden, Jason kicked Bane in the lower region, and Bane folded over in utter pain, his hands clamped around his genitals. Bane collapsed to his knees, and if his mouth could be seen behind his Luchador mask, it would be in an open wide silent scream of agony.

Nightwing hissed. The mere sight was enough to make any man cringe. And to make things worse, Jason had steel-toe boots.

Batgirl clamped her hands around her mouth to stop herself from laughing, but it escaped nonetheless.

Bane collapsed to the ground like Goliath did after David had hit him with a stone from a slingshot in the biblical lore story. Bane fell, and the ground shook when he landed, the giant laying still.

"That was underhanded, sneaky, devious, and downright treacherous," Nightwing remarked, then smiled. "Glad you're on our team." He had instinctively put a hand over his own crotch, an involuntary response after he saw what Jason had done. "I've felt your kicks, Jay. And I'm a bit sympathetic to Bane right now."

"Kevlar, my ass; no man is invincible down there," Jason said. "Unbeatable Bane? Meet _Hood, the Conqueror_. By the way, if no one guessed the musical, it was…"

"The Nutcracker," both Nightwing and Batgirl said in unison.

"Enough self-congratulation, we have a job to do," Batman said.

Jason snorted behind his mask. "You never give me any credit. Frankly if it wasn't for me, Gotham City would still be a cesspool, riddled with cockroaches, rats, and other vermin in the streets. I serve a purpose, even if you don't like my methods, Bruce."

Batgirl said, "Well, form me, thank you, Jay, for kicking Bane in the—"

"Maracas," Nightwing finished.

She laughed. "Do you think anything is broken?"

Jason said, "When he wakes up, and if he hears something like shattered glass, then he'll know there's a problem."

"Maybe when he awakens he might find God, just like you, Jay," Dick smirked. "Only when you were a priest, you fenced weaponry behind church doors."  
"I knew I was kicked out for something, thanks for reminding me of the most boring time of my life. Although you did come to me once and confessed your sins. Wasn't it something to do with your friend Paul Hudson?"

Dick frowned. "You promised me that you would never reveal what I told you!"

"My lips are sealed, for a price. Although if I recall your lips were—"

"Shut it, Jason. We'll discuss this later. God freak'n blackmail artist!"

Jason shrugged his shoulders. "We're all good at something, mine's in the dark recesses of the street."

"Dick, do you have anything to tell me?" Barbara questioned. "Have you dipped your pen in someone else's inkwell?"

"Oh, nice analogy, Barbara," Jason commented.

Dick sneered at Jason. "I hate you sometimes, Jay, I really do," he said. "You exaggerate things more than what they are. Paul needed a friend one night when he was feeling very depressed, and he kissed me. He confessed to me back when we were in Bludhaven Police Department together that he was gay. I didn't mind, and then, he tried to, well, test the waters with me. It lasted maybe ten-seconds, that's it. He's not a bad kisser. But I had to set him straight that I was straight, and you are the love or my life; always have and always will, Barb." ( _Ref: to my novel: Joker's Folly_ )

"Aww, how sweet," Barbara said. "But some girls do get off in seeing two guys kiss. Luckily, I only need you to get me hot and bothered."

"Maybe I should tell everyone about you, Jay, and a certain significant other—a true scorpion in the grass." ( _Ref: to my story Pride of a Superhero_ )

Jason frozen, he pointed a figure. "Shut it, Grayson. I pride myself on my tough-guy image. I don't need something like that getting out."

Batman grumbled. "Enough, you two," he said. "This is neither the time nor the place for this. Tim and Damian need our help and they are waiting for us to rescue them."

Lights suddenly switched on, illuminating everything in the area.

"Dark Knight meet light," Jason said humorously.

"Quite right, Batman, and enough of this dance between the two love _birds_ ," came Riddler's voice over the loud speaker system that was installed at the facility, most likely used for announcements. It was an old-style bullhorn; the party looked at the nearest one. "My sweet daughter Engima dabbled in such affairs; apparently it's the thing to do these days—the openness society tells our kids is correct behaviour. But enough of that." There was a pause. "Congratulations in defeating Bane, quite an ingenious tactic, Red Hood, or shall I call you Jason Todd? I once enjoyed a drink at the Iceberg Lounge, when it was under more hospitable management."

Nightwing gasped.

"And Nightwing, or shall I call you Dick Grayson? And if I have to wager a guess, based on association, Barbara Gordon _is_ Batgirl. And of course, my favourite, the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne _is_ Batman. How glorious the secret in finding out, although I wish I could have discovered it on my own rather than your pathetic excuse for a son blabbing it out while he was being tortured. He sang like a canary."

Nightwing said, "I don't believe that, Nygma, it must have been a mistake. Damian may have a big mouth sometimes, but he's the kind of kid who knows how to keep a secret."

"Dick, you just confirmed Nygma's hypothesis about us," Jason said. "You're the one with a big mouth. He was just fishing for information and you fell for it."

"Ah, _Boy Wonder Number Two_ , Robin Number Three told me much about you. And he was much more giving than Robin Number Four. All your secrets have been extorted for me to use, and unless you want the rest of the criminal underworld to know exactly who you all are, you will do exactly what I say."

"That would be disastrous," Nightwing said, "for all of Gotham City. You are but _one_ criminal, Nygma, the city needs _us_ to keep law and order from others, even worse than you."

Despite the reveal, Batman remained calm. "What do you want, Riddler?" The question was more a demand.

"Ah, the direct approach," Riddler replied, "I like that, and so authoritative." The villain laughed. "But let us discuss terms after we've had a little fun."

There was a momentary pause, then Riddler was heard inhaling a breath. "Riddle he this, Batman: _When is an individual's mind not his own?_ "

"Changing the variation of the riddle won't alter its answer, Riddler," Batman said. "You already asked me this riddle in the warehouse, and I gave you my response."

"Ah yes, you did hear it and responded to it, but the others did not, and this is, in fact, for all of them to solve," Riddler responded. "However, your answer predicated on Adam Nichols at the time. Unfortunately he has left us and I have taken over his operation. But while Nichols is gone, there's still more fun to be had."

"Why did you kill him? I thought he was your partner?"

"Semantics, and I should ask the same question of you of Robin Number Two. But let us not dwell on ancient history and about issues that do not concern the immediate moment. That is not why I have brought you here. I have the good Dr. Jonathan Crane with me now, and he knows everything Nichols did. But enough of this chit-chat, time for the main event. Answer please."

"An individual's mind is not his own when he is being controlled," Batman answered.

"Correct!"

A bell rang on the wall, three dings. It was obviously part of system to tell people to leave the building in case there was a fire, or something else, but was now being used similar-like to begin a boxing match. But Riddler was obviously using it to announce something else.

Just then, through the hole that Bane came out of, both dressed in costume and wearing their masks, Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, Red Robin and Robin, emerged, stepping over the rumble, weapons at the ready. Tim with his bo-staff and Damian with his katana.

"Tim! Damian!" Batman said, not even attempting to hide their true identities, since everyone already knew.

Nightwing thought he saw a hint of a smile on Batman's face, but then it faded when reality kicked in, and for all of them. From the way they stood and acted, Tim and Damian were hypnotized, brainwashed, and most likely subjected to the evil machinations of the recently deceased Adam Nichols manipulative methods.

"Are they brainwashed?" Batgirl wondered, now wielding her collapsable bo-staff that she took out of a utility belt.

"But how? They're stronger than this," Nightwing said. "Both of them have gone through some of the most rigorous mental training ever. What the hell was done to them, Bruce?"

"I don't know," was all Batman could say, dumbfounded.

Riddler said, "Meet my newest soldiers of fortune. Adam Nichols techniques and methods are extremely valuable, able to brainwash even the hardiest of souls. The sons of Batman are now mine to control. And they've been programmed to kill. What will you do, Batman? Will you sacrifice your sons to uphold your most Cardinal principle? So, what will it be, Caped Crusader? Kill or be killed? Let the great Batfamily battle begin!"

_To be continued..._

 


	13. Devil's Advocate

Tim and Damian stood in their battle gear with weapons at the ready. Both didn't appear like they were in their right frame of mind. In fact, Damian looked like he was in pain by the way the muscles twitched in this face.

Brainwashed by an unknown neuro-weapon invented by Adam Nichols' secret technology, it must have been over whelming for their neocrotex, Dick Grayson wondered.

The neocortex was a part of the cerebral cortex, along with the archicortex and paleocortex, which are cortical parts of the limbic system, that are involved in higher functions such as sensory perception, generation of motor commands, spatial reasoning, conscious thought, even freedom of action.

If a third-party had control of a person, even with extreme mental training, a person would not be able to resist a directive from another power.

It was still unknown how Adam Nichols was able to brainwash so many people without anyone knowing it and with what kind of technology, but Riddler was now control of it, and Dick knew the worst was yet to come, especially if he was able to control two of the most strongest mentally-adapt heroes in Gotham.

But then something happened, and Jason stepped forward. He had not drawn his weapons yet, instead he extended his arms outward in peace.

"Jason, what the hell are you doing?" Nightwing said. "Get back here!"

But Jason ignored him, he always ignored everyone. He was the kind of guy that did what he wanted.

"Let's cut to the quick, guys," Jason said. "I don't say this much, in fact I don't ever remember saying it at all, but I love you guys, and this is so wrong, on so many levels."

Everyone looked at him in confusion. This was not like Jason at all. He was normally a foul-mouthed jerk. Having empathy was against his character, and when it came to his own family he would rather blow smoke in their face than say anything nice to them, especially that he loved them.

"The freaking psychos are fucking with your mind!" Jason then said. "You need to tell them fuck off!"

_That's more like it,_ Dick thought. Perhaps it was also a way to throw them off guard, so they wouldn't immediately attack?

Drake clenched his teeth. "Language!" he shouted back. "For heaven's sake!"

Nightwing smiled. Tim Drake was a proponent of never using vulgarity like Jason, and he always chided others about it. More than once he told Jason to watch his language. If Tim was brainwashed, this was a tremendous breakthrough. So, it was smart of Jason to swear knowing that it was one of Drake's vulnerabilities.

Jason then said, "That's it guys, exploit their weaknesses. We know them better than they know themselves."

"Does Damian have any weaknesses other than being an arrogant, annoying, little piece of bat guano?" Nightwing replied.

Damian appeared to clench his teeth when Nightwing said that.

"Hey all, be forewarned," Jason began, "I'm about to school you in the language of the street. It was do or die out there and I had to do anything and everything to survive. Plug your ears if you want."

It was then that Jason went off on a tangent of complete vulgarity that if anyone outside of the Batfamily heard it would be completely shocking.

Even so, Batgirl was stunned by the language. "I think I'll need my ears washed out with soap after hearing that," she said.

"I'm proud to say, he didn't hear that from me," Batman said, a little taken aback himself.

Drake clapped his hands over his ears. " _Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ Stop swearing like that, you idiot! There could be children nearby."

Using the distraction, Jason ran to Tim, and using a tactic in Dick's repertoire, he grabbed Tim and thrust his arms around him, like a hug.

Tim struggled, to no avail. Jason was much stronger than him.

Jason said, "Sorry about this kid, but it's the only way to win without actually hurting you. Although this might hurt a little." It was then he activated the electroshock in his vest armour that was embedded in the bat symbol and he electrocuted Tim Drake.

Tim screamed, but it was short, and he was quickly rendered unconscious. Jason caught him in his arms and gently lay them down on the ground. He checked him for vitals and assured everyone that Tim was still alive.

"Hey! That was such a cheap shot," Riddler said, obviously watching the action through the CCTV. "No fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, but as for you Riddler," Jason said, looking up at the nearly bullhorn speaker, "there's no love for you. But I'll gladly go to war with you. We've had our family squabbles, but no one hurts my family. Especially a megalomanic like you."

The irony wasn't lost. Jason used his electro vest to hurt Tim, but it had to be done to reduce the odds.

Damian was another factor all together. He was trained by _The League of Assassins_ , and his grandfather Ra's Al Ghul, and he could handle himself in a one-on-one fight. The katana he held was dangerous. And if he was told to win, chances were, he wouldn't hesitate the cut every member of the Batfamily down.

Nightwing hoped that wasn't the case.

x x x

Riddler stood shocked and bewildered next to Jonathan Crane in front of a bank of CCTV wall monitors.

The battle between Tim Drake and Red Hood was finished in the blink of an eye. In fact, it didn't begin.

Nygma slammed his hand down on Crane's shoulder in anger and squeezed. Crane cringed at the pain, as he sat in a chair in front of the monitors.

"What the hell just happened? What the hell was that?" Nygma demanded, and pointed.

Crane moved away from Nygma's grip. "It wasn't my fault," he spat back. "I had no idea Red Hood can do that. I'm not up-to-date on his latest gear. All those Bat freaks have interesting weapons, but I think that maneuver was some sort of _hug-shock_."

" _Hug-shock_? Are you being facetious? You told me you had complete control over Timothy Drake. The moment he heard Jason Todd shouting vulgarities, his brainwashing appeared to waiver. Why?"

"I don't know why, and I don't know the complete history of all the Robin's," Crane said. "But it would appear that Timothy Drake does not like fowl language. But what would you expect from a goody-goody? He was once the acting CEO of Wayne industries when Bruce Wayne had disappeared. He was well-respected. I suppose he's one of those high and morality types."

"The brainwashing was supposed to strip him of his high morality. What the hell went wrong?"

"My only guess is shock therapy, and Red Hood knew this. Despite him hating the Joker and taking his namesake, that Joker was the Red Hood once upon a time, Jason Todd has learned a lot about shocking his would-be victims into submission, and he incorporated this into a shock vest."

"Then fix it!" Nygma said with an angry fury.

Crane stood, turned to Riddler, pointed. "Don't you dare blame this on me! That was totally unexpected. And besides, what sane person would have a shock vest?"

Riddler slammed his Q-Staff onto the floor, cracking some of the tiles. "Obviously Timothy Drake detests foul language, most likely inbred in him at a young age by his parents," he said.

"A lot of viable information was coaxed out of the boy while he was being tortured," Crane said, turning back. "He had a somewhat troubled past. Even with his training with Batman, he was strong. But he was still mentally fragile. If someone is depressed, it's easier to brake them. That's why he was able to be brainwashed so easily. Damian Wayne on the other hand was a little more difficult."

Nygma grumbled under his breath, he gave Crane a look of incredulity, but also one of understanding. It was obvious now that Timothy Drake could no longer be used.

Riddler calmed down, logic ensued.

Crane looked at the CCTV as Nygma mused.

"Very well, so be it," Nygma then said. "Tell Damian Wayne to attack his family. My patience has run out. In fact, I have a wicked idea. Instead of him attacking his father, have him attack Nightwing. I'm sure we'll find much entertainment in this. The others will standby, so not harm the youngest son."

Crane reached over and grabbed a small microphone to relay the order. Both Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne had a small micro transmitter surgically implanted behind the left ear which amplified the control mechanism.

Crane's order would be heard by Damian Wayne and would be reinforced through the brainwashed neuropathy. He would not be able to resist.

x x x

Nightwing wondered if the same thing that had been done to Tim could be done to Damian? But with Damian's katana, he figured that Jason wouldn't take the chance of being foiled through.

So, he had to think of another plan.

And if he recalled, Jason said that he only had enough power in his shock vest for one major jolt, then it had to be recharged. So, if he used that much power on Tim, then he wouldn't have enough for Damian.

Nightwing gave a sideways glance to Batman, and he had a thought. His mind immediately recalled a time when he was much younger, when he was suffering from night terrors. Bruce was there to help him, and now it was his time to help Damian, to help his son brake through the terror of this god-awful brainwashing. The kid's mind must be going through a lot of hardship trying to fight it.

Damian was a tough kid, but there was only so much the human brain can take.

He didn't have much time. He needed to get through to Damian as soon as possible before the true programming set in.

"Damian Wayne," came a voice from the loudspeakers. It was not Riddler's, but Dr. Jonathan Crane. "Listen to my words, and follow my instructions. Kill Nightwing now!"

There was a moment hesitation from Damian, but then the programming quickly took over. Nightwing twirled his escrima sticks and readied a defence. Damian attacked with his katana.

Nightwing swore, having to fight Damian now.

Nightwing defended himself with his escrima sticks making sure that the sharp edge of the blade didn't directly hit them or they would be sliced in half, hitting the flat part of the blade. Every time Damian struck with his katana, Nightwing hit the blade away on the blunt side.

With quickness, Nightwing pivoted his footing, and hit Damian in the back with one of his escrima sticks, and the boy cried out in pain. If he really wanted to hurt Damian, he would have turned on the electroshock feature of his sticks, but he knew the kid was not of his right mind, so he resisted.

"Snap out of this, kiddo!" Nightwing said. "This isn't you, you're much stronger than this. Fall back to your training with Bruce, resist the brainwashing."

But Damian kept attacking, mercilessly, obviously the programming was much too great for him to overcome. Whatever Riddler did to him using Adam Nichols' techniques, it was so powerful, it overcame Damian's strong-willed mind. It almost seemed surreal.

But Nightwing new Damian's fighting style and could keep up with the kid easily. Some of Damian's own moves, including a little fighting style, he even taught the kid.

Damian had been a member of _The League of Assassins_ , and they taught him how to fight aggressively. Nightwing taught him how to fight smartly, and to always fight in a position of both offence and defence, for an easy out, to avoid getting hurt. But because he was programmed to hurt and kill by Riddler and Crane, his mind was not his own.

Damian was screaming wildly, perhaps a side effect of the pain he was feeling in trying to fight the programming, like being bit by fire ants in his brain. But it was the main reason why Nightwing easily avoided his attacks, because it almost felt like Damian's screams were symbols of his future actions, like he was foreshadowing his next move. But that could just have been Nightwing's imagination?

Nightwing told the others to remain back and that he would deal with Damian himself.

Jason was near Tim kneeling over his unconscious body, but also guarding him just in case he woke up. He would still be under the programming if he did, and he would need to be taken down again.

Batman and Batgirl stood and watched.

When Bruce had disappeared and Dick had to take over the Batman mantle, Damian became his partner for that time. During that brief time, they had formed a relationship of trust and respect, and despite some hardships, they became a good team. During a slip-of-the-tongue moment, Damian actually called Dick "Father" back then. He tried to deny it, but it came out during a moment of congratulations when they were fighting an enemy.

So, the thought struck Dick about what he needed to do. Since Damian respected him so much, although not admittedly, there was a way to get through to the kid. He didn't want to do it, but he knew it had to be done.

Damian had an inferiority complex, which may have been the reason why he kept telling Tim to leave the Batfamily, so he could take his rightful place at his father's side. This was how Nightwing was going to get through to the kid, by using his own vulnerability against him. Like Jason did to Tim.

It was similar to the inferiority complex that Jason had with Bruce. Bruce had once called Jason The Prince of Gotham when he was Robin, after an incident that nearly and badly scarred Jason's face with a chemical burn. He eventually healed, but the mental healing took longer. He kept on repeating his own anger issues with Bruce when it came to his death, however. Every member of the Batfamily had issues, but more so Jason and Damian.

Everyone was mentally scarred. But that's what brought the family together, because they had each other to help one another. They knew what the others were going through.

But it would be that scar that Nightwing would need to re-open up in Damian right now.

But before he did so, he recalled an incident in his own past when he and Bruce had an all-out brawl in the Batcave. They fought over their own history. There were different ideas of thought when it came to their separation. Dick did not appreciate Bruce's new philosophy when it came to crime-fighting, it went against the grain, therefore he wanted to have a trial separation when it came to their partnership.

Bruce fired him instead. That was a deep scar Nightwing would keep for the rest of his life.

Was it tough love, or did Bruce not want Dick to follow in his footsteps down a dark road?

Later he admitted that Dick had actually saved him from going down that road earlier in life, in being his partner. Bruce had helped Dick with his own pain when he suffered a similar fate when his parents and brother, The Flying Grayson's, had been killed by a mob boss.

When Dick's family was killed, he sought comfort with Bruce, who took him in, and adopted him. Much like when Dick wanted to adopt Jason, the son following the father. Maybe if that did occur, Jason would not have been killed by the Joker, later resurrected by cosmic forces and the Lazarus Pit.

But that was ancient history.

Dick and Bruce always had a strange relationship after they separated in being the Dynamic Duo. Nightwing continued Bruce's cardinal rule of no killing, but he also followed his own philosophy in life: never be like Bruce. Experience life, and never fall into the depths of despair. And when he found Barbara and finally expressed his true feelings for her, he felt he could finally put his past behind him.

But he always remembered what Bruce had done for him, and for that he thanked him, but with Barbara, he could finally move forward.

Now he would have to express that same tough love to his little brother, the only biological son of Bruce Wayne. He now not only had to play big brother, but he also had to play devil's advocate.

"You're weak, Damian," Nightwing said suddenly, but he frowned while saying it. His heart was not in it because he knew it wasn't true. However, Damian always prided himself on being stronger than most. And coming from Dick, it would be like a stab to the heart. "You'll never be like your father, or me."

"Shut up!" Damian said, striking hard with a downward thrust with his katana.

Nightwing easily avoided the strike, pivoting his feet, and then hit the flat part of the katana with one of his escrima sticks. He hit it downwards and forced Damian off balance. The kid stumbled and dropped to his knees. The kid was being clumsy, because he was being controlled. He didn't have all his facilities. Crane was using his programming to control Damian.

He looked back up with a nasty sneer. Since Nightwing knew Damian's tactics, it was easy to defend against.

Nightwing said, "You disappoint your father, but you disappoint me more, and insult your grandfather. If he could see you now, he would probably disown you."  
Dick heard a gasp from afar, it was from Barbara. "Dick, isn't that going a little far?"

"The brat has to know the truth," Dick replied. "Get up, Damian. Come on, attack me! Your father's light is brighter than yours. You're a pathetic excuse for the mantle of Robin. No wonder I was called upon to wear the cowl when your father disappeared. And when Tim asked to be my partner, I told him the simple truth: he was my equal, and you was the gum underneath my boot. You need so much discipline. I knew I needed to babysit you with your father gone. Now, show me what you've got! Or is this all you have?"

"Dick…" Barbara said.

But Dick stopped her from saying anything else with a wave of a hand. This had to be done, it was the only way to get deep into Damian's prideful psyche.

_To be continued..._

 


	14. Truth Be Told

"Shut up, Grayson! Just shut up!"

Damian lunged at Nightwing's legs, but Nightwing jumped out of the way. Damian snatched nothing but air, and landed on his face.

"Get up you pathetic excuse for a wannabe! You're stronger than this! When I was Robin, no one could touch me. I left Batman because I knew I could be better. But you're stuck in his shadow. Even Jason and Tim have been better than you, you self-centred, arrogant, spoiled, little turd!"

"DICK!" Barbara shouted. "That's going way too far!"

Bruce was actually speechless.

Jason said, "Ha, way to go to Dickiebird! Finally, someone told him the truth."

"You're pathetic and weak, you need guidance, and you need your hand held every time we go out on patrol. You mouth off, and you think you're better than everyone else. In truth, you're nothing but a rotten child."

"Bruce, stop this, please," Barbara pleaded. "You're not going to stop this? Why not? He's your son!"

"The truth hurts, and Damian needs to hear it from someone he respects more than me," Batman said.

"You're not my son, and I'm glad you're not," Dick continued. "Because who would want a weakling like you. If you can't get past this, then you don't deserve to wear that uniform. You might as well tear it off your body and throw it in the trash."

" _Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!_ " Damian shouted, and then began to swing wildly with his fists, no longer using his katana. " _I am not weak, I am not weak!_ " Damian then grabbed the sides of his head and screamed at the top of his lungs. " _I AM NOT WEAK!_ "

He lunged, his arms stretched out fully to grab Nightwing again, but he stumbled and fell to the ground to his hands and knees. He hit the ground with his fists, and repeated: " _I AM NOT WEAK!_ "

Dick thought one final push was needed. "When we were the Dynamic Duo, I felt sorry for you," he said. "You always needed to be babysat, never a free thinker. You fought with your emotions, and they weren't positive ones. You fought ineptly and sloppy, you were bad behaved, too. In fact, you were a horrible partner."

"Hey now, Dickiebird, I think that's enough now, it's no longer funny," Jason said. "I agree with Barbara, and I think you just crossed the line."

"Why? Why would you say such a thing? Why? Why?" Damian was on his knees and his hands were up, palms out, as if in redemption. He sniffed. There was only one other time the boy shed a tear and that was when Bruce was going to marry Selina Kyle/Catwoman, for which Damian didn't want. "I trusted you, Grayson, I respect you, but now I know you truly hate me. I did my best to be the best partner you ever had. I'm sorry, I am a spoiled brat, but it's just my nature. My mother brought me up to act superior to others, because that's what I was told I was, everyone else beneath me because of my lineage. You are the only one that didn't talk down to me, treating me like take a human being. Now I'm know I'm nothing but a dog."

Nightwing remained on the defensive. He couldn't tell if this might be some sort of tactic from Damian to throw him off guard. Damian was never this trite. And he wasn't falling for it. If he had broken Riddler's spell on him, he needed something more to prove it.

"Take off your mask Damian, let me see your eyes," Nightwing demanded. It was said that if a person was telling the truth, their eyes dilated. And truth shall set you free.

Damian took off his mask and behind it were tears. He was not faking It, Dick's words had struck home. But, had he actually broken the mental programming? His eyes were saddened, like a son who had severely disappointed his father and he was extremely remorseful. This was no joke.

"I tried, Grayson, I really tried," Damian said tearfully, which was uncharacteristic of him.

Damian was, in fact, a lot stronger than this. But Dick's words must have shattered the kids ego; hurtful words from his mentor, other than his father. Bruce could be a bit hard-nosed, and Dick was a little more lenient. But Dick was also more accepting of Damian's faults and allowed him to make his own mistakes and learn from them. Idly, that was the best learning tool, so he wouldn't make the same error next time.

"Mother used to call me nasty things, too," Damian said. "She said it was to toughen me up. I was never enough for her. Why, Grayson? Why'd you have to be just like Mother?"

_Ouch_ , Dick thought. _That was a stinger._

Dick wasn't sure, but then he threw caution to the wind and dropped his escrima sticks, believing that Damian's emotions were genuine. He went over and hugged the boy. And Damian hugged back.

Damian actually cried in Dick's arms.

Dick put a comforting hand on Damian's head, stroked his hair. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," he said, making reference to the old movie The Wizard of Oz. He was Dick Grayson behind the Nightwing mask. He left to be his own person, not to hurt but to help others when he felt Batman was getting too violent. Today, he felt like he mirrored Bruce with his words, and Dick felt guilty. "Sometimes the pressure just gets to a person, it builds up, and not even we know how much is there. You just need to release it the only way you know how. You must have been fighting Riddler's control much harder than I thought. You're one of the strongest people I know, D. Skillful, talented, and brave. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

Damian looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was not faking this. The pressure he was feeling and trying to stop himself from hurting his own family must have been tremendous and overwhelming. And he was only thirteen.

Damian sniffed. "Thank you, Grayson. Thank you. That really means a lot, especially coming from you…" Then he wiped his nose on Nightwing's uniform. It grossed Dick out a little, but he deserved it.

Damian wiped the tears from his eyes. And Dick hugged Damian even tighter, embracing him brotherly.

But that doesn't mean Damian was going to let everything he said slide, Dick knew. Payback was coming, one way or another. When he had it in him, he could as vicious as, well, any Rogue.

Dick gulped.

x x x

Riddler roared with anger, throwing a chair at the wall. "Arrrgghh! They're hugging again! What's with this family?"

"Affectionate, aren't they?" Crane mused.

"They have a closer family dynamic then I thought, one that can overcome even the harshest of brainwashing techniques." Riddler growled under his breath.  
"And here I thought they were merely a band of egotistical crime fighters," Crane remarked sarcastically.

"They are a close-knit family," Riddler put in. "Notwithstanding, their secret is out. I know who each of them are. Telling the other Rogues would be fun, but it would spoil the game."

"Perhaps a strategic retreat is an order? I have all of Adam Nichols data, and we can use the technology on others for our agenda," Crane said, holding up a memory stick. He then reached over and picked up a computer tablet. On its display was a map of the recreational centre, with a collective series of red dots indicating pre-planned bomb placements within the facility.

"Maybe, you're right," Nygma said. " _If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles._ "

"Who said that?"

"It is a lesser known quote by Sun Tzu, a Chinese general, military strategist, writer and philosopher who lived in the Eastern Zhou period of ancient China," Nygma said. "Basically, it means to flee and fight another day is not cowardly. Don't be so quick to destroy your enemy, take your time." He snatched the computer tablet from Crane's hand. "But before we depart, let's prepare our special going away gift for our friends. Then we can watch Batman's world burn!"  
And Crane responded with a broad grin.

x x x

"Grayson, you can unlatch your arms from around me now, I'm fine, and you're hurting me, you're squeezing too tight!" Damian said.

Dick released him from the strong hug. "Glad you're now with us again, kiddo. You had me worried. You're a strong kid, but whatever they did to you must have been intense."

Damian looked to Drake, still unconscious on the ground next to Jason. "They did worse to Drake," he said, "I'm not quite sure what kind of brainwashing technique they used on me, things are a bit foggy. But they used electroshock therapy on Drake, so his brainwashing was a little more intense than mine, and more involved. They coaxed a lot of secrets from him, but of course Drake has always been a bit weak-minded and naïve. I was trained by the _League of Assassins_."

"Brainwashing is brainwashing no matter the method used," Dick said, getting to his feet. "Dr. Jonathan Crane can use some pretty extreme methods and we still don't fully understand the methods that Nichols implied."

Just then, Drake began to stir, and moan. He felt his head.

Jason said, "You okay, kid? You were completely out of it, ready to attack us like the munchkin over there. I had to use some old time disciplinary methods to knock some sense into you."

"If shocking your friends and family is normal for you, then your enemies must get it worse, Jay," Dick said.

And Jason laughed.

Grayson breathed a sigh of relief when he Tim was okay. But then it occurred to him, that if Nichols brainwashing could easily be overcome, then the brainwashing techniques of Adam Nichols had a major flaw. It fell prey to simple, but outdated methods of reconciliation, such as shock therapy and deep emotion ties.

He turned around to Batman, but shockingly, the Caped Crusader wasn't there. Dick looked to Barbara. Even she was dumbfounded, coming over, and stating that she hadn't seen him slip away, watching the battle between Dick and Damian, and then the cute brotherly hug afterwards.

All of a sudden, the sound of gravel rustling was heard, and Bane began to awaken, his hands gripping into the dirt. His toxic serum began to pump into his system on a conscious level. Outwardly, it looks like an adrenaline rush in preparation for a fight.

Bane growled angrily as he began to get to his feet.

Jason and Drake stood up and quickly moved away.

"Oh great, it's Mr. Grumpy Pants is up," Jason said. "I don't hear any jingling, so the cherries must be okay."

Drake stood his head. "Did you kick him in the lower region? Is that why he is so miserable?"

"He needed to be taken down, and I had the perfect footwear to do it," Jason said. "And Bane doesn't need a reason to be grumpy."

Jason was probably smiling under his mask, Dick assumed. While he did follow Batman's cardinal rule, to a point, he did enjoy hurting people. Jason said it was a necessary evil.

"Damn bat!" Bane growled, cupping his genitals. "I'm going to kill you for that!"

"Please Bane, there's a lady present," Jason said. "You can touch yourself in the privacy of your own home, just don't it out here in public."

Bane grit his teeth in anger.

"What's going on here? Care to fill me in?" Tim inquired. "How did I get here? What is Bane doing here?"

"You went most of the list of basic questions to ask in any basic situation, Timmy, except for one. Do you know who you are?"

"Don't be stupid, Jason. Of course, I do. My name is Tinkerbell and I live in Neverland." Drake smirked.

"Oh, nice one," Jason laughed. "Gotta remember that one for a nickname for you later. But, as for Bane, long story. But how do you feel?"

"Like someone who just touched an electric fence. I can't believe you shocked me."

"I bet you don't feel too positive right now?" Drake gave him an incredulously look. "Wait! Hold that thought."

Bane suddenly attacked, his arms in the air, his hands balled into fists. And he slammed them into the ground where Jason once did. Jason flipped backwards out of the villains onslaught. Drake backed off a few paces.

All of a sudden, Bane seemed to dance like he was being electrocuted again. And he was.

This time, it was Drake who gave him a shocking experience, tossing one of his Shock Discs at him, a new weapon that looked like a normal music CD. Drake had been working on it for a while, and Dick had seen a few failed experiments when he was testing it in Batcave. It was yet another special toy created by the teen genius.

But instead of merely acting like a shock device as soon as it touched a person, small tentacles emerged from the sides of the device, and latched themselves on, using stored energy to continuously shock the victim into submission or unconsciousness. When one or the other had been achieved, the attack would stop, using sophisticated artificial intelligence to initiate a stop protocol.

Bane collapsed unconscious. His second coming had been foiled quickly.

"That was cheap, but I have to admit it was effective," Jason said. "Can you make a few of those for me, Timmy? I won't have to use my guns as often."

"I'll think about it. Knowing you, you'd probably have a tingling feeling whenever shocking someone."

They all then grouped into a collective.

"Any one see where Bruce went?" Dick asked. "He disappeared during my battle with Damian."

Damian slammed a hand into a fist. "I'm going to beat the crap out of Crane and Nygma for what they've done!"

"That's if Bruce doesn't get to them first," Dick said back.

_To be continued..._

 


	15. Showing Your Hand

Batman moved with stealth and caution in the old recreation centre. The power to the facility to most areas had been cut, but re-routined to where Riddler must have needed it.

He used his night vision optics to make his way through the darkness and followed heat signatures to track Riddler and Crane's location.

But before he did, he roamed briefly through a few rooms, in case something of importance cropped up before the final encounter. And, indeed, in one of the Men's shower stalls, he found Adam Nichols's body, crumbled in a heap. This time, he was truly dead. Not faked, like last time.

He ventured out, and eventually found his way to a makeshift Ops room. A bank of CCTV screens filled one wall on top of a desk, they were still active, but Riddler and Crane were gone.

But in a chair, once turned around, he found what appeared to be a riddle. It was a simple plastic statue, something that Tim had in his animation collection. It was approximately six feet in height and of a character he didn't know, but Tim would probably recognize.

This statue had fiery yellow hair, and had orange and blue martial arts clothes, and was exceptionally muscular. Batman didn't think it was the clue, but merely a prop. It stood on a cardboard sleeve with writing on it. It was a riddle. It said: _I'M MANY, BUT SPEAK WITH ONE VOICE. WHAT AM I?_

Bruce thought back to when he was a kid and when his parents took him to church. After his parents were murdered, he rarely stepped into one. But the stories in the Bible often had a lesson to teach. One of which was his cardinal rule: No killing, and it was his _Commandment_ , per se, and his _Number One Rule_.

Jason has broken it on numerous occasions, and Bruce fired Dick for speaking out about Batman almost crossing the line on more than one occasion. Bruce didn't like be lectured, so his partnership with Dick ended. But later he thanked Dick for speaking; he had almost walked down the same path of the very thing he fought against. Unfortunately, that was not the only difference of opinion Dick had and their separation was enviable.

The riddle was easy to decipher, as it denoted the old biblical story that included LEGION. We speak with one voice, for we are many. The story was about Jesus who met a man on a hilltop that was possessed by multiple spirits who refused to repent. And Jesus left the man to die.

Bruce understood the premise of the tale, but it was far outdated for this era of time. And yet, what did it mean? The statue, perhaps, wasn't merely a prop, but also a clue—for there were many heroes. And they often failed.

He took the statue and riddle with him when he exited the Ops room, then ventured down a large hall, and eventually came to a rotunda, that was basically a cafetorium. There were a few tables and chairs left abandoned, but most of the area was cleaned out. Above him, was a large skylight, but blackened over time, and discoloured by the sun. Nothing could be seen out of it now.

Here, he found a group of men, all dressed in white patient garb. No doubt victims of Dr. Adam Nichols experimentation, now deceased. Riddler stole Nichols technology and was now adapting it for his own sinister purposes, and most likely for a new super neuro-weapon, destructive in its own rite. It destroyed the victim's brain, when under continued stress from its influence.

Tim and Damian were lucky. Not only did Crane not fully understand Nichols technology and used it on them, but Tim and Damian fought back when subjected to unknown factors that neither Riddler nor Crane could anticipate, the love and bond of family. Batman knew if they weren't stopped, then other people would be at risk, and with every victim, Crane and Riddler would be able to perfect its effectiveness and control.

He noticed that every victim had their hair shaven just like a bunch of thugs. Tim and Damian were probably glad their heads weren't shaved when they were subjected to Nichols brainwashing technology. Tim had cropped his hair close once, but then let it grow out. A buzz-cut would not look good on Damian at all.

Unfortunately, it was too late for these men. At count, there were twelve of them.

Suddenly, they all began to get to their feet, and Scarecrow then emerged from a darkened area of the cafe. Crane then came to stand in front of the twelve "angry-looking" men.

This is what Riddler meant by the riddle. Crane controlled them, and they all "spoke" with one voice under Crane's command. Batman knew if this technology wasn't stopped, then hundreds, even thousands of people could be subjected to it, and all of Gotham, even the world, would be under Riddler and Crane's control.

This was Riddler's Gambit, his plight, and it had to end.

He saw something above his head, they were attached to old sprinkler heads. They looked like nozzle administers, commonly used by Crane to release his hypnotic gas, that he used to throw his victims into confusion, drawing out their greatest fears. It was also used to control people.

Batman quickly pressed a button on his arm gauntlet and a mouth protector slid across his mouth, so he wouldn't breath any of the gas if ejected. And suddenly, the nozzles sprayed Crane's gas all over the twelve men.

Suddenly, each one of them began to shout and scream, clutching their heads in god-awful pain, as the chemical sprayed them. Batman's suit insulated him from its effects, and Crane, of course, was unaffected.

Crane then bolted away from the twelve men, as if knowing something was coming and he wanted to get away from it. Just then, Batman saw the true effect of Crane's gas, and it was not what he was excepting. All twelve men began to rip off their clothes as their muscles bulked up to enormous, even grotesque size like Bane. Had Crane added some of Bane's Venom serum into his gas mixture?

Each man was turned into a hideous, mutant-like monster, as if they had just been experimented on in a lab. As far, as Batman saw it, they had become meta-humans.

Crane was a sick bastard, they were innocent people.

"Meet my army, Batman," Crane announced. "Stripped of their humanity by Nichols technology, they are mine to control now, with additives from Bane's special Venom drug. I may have misunderstood one or two of Nichols calculations when I used his technology, of a different form than this, on your two kids, but these men will not disappoint. And you're about to feel their collective wraith!"

They all roared like angry apes, pounding their chests, salivated, even bled from their eyes and nose, as the Venom drug enhanced their muscular structure even further, to intensify their bodies to unnatural proportions. The human body couldn't handle such things, and if someone wanted large muscles, it took time for the body to build them. This method, Bane's method, went well beyond the natural physical laws of man's genetics.

But obviously Crane didn't care. These men, victims, were his to control, and to send against him.

Batman touched his right arm gauntlet for the comm-link button, said, "Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, I need you here now! Respond!"

But there was no response. Batman wondered if there was a jamming frequency within the facility. He wouldn't doubt it, Riddler and Crane would want to keep their pet project a secret from the authorities. The only reason they found it was because of Riddler's taunt.

He reached into his utility belt and readied several Batarangs.

x x x

"Batman! _Batman!_ Please _respond!_ " Nightwing looked at the others, getting no answer from his mask comm-link. "Can't get through. Something must be jamming the signal."

A sound suddenly came from the ground. Bane began to move, moan, awakening from his second attempt to lay him out for the count. First it was a kick to the groin from Jason with a steel-toe, then Tim electrocuted him with one of his newly minted Shock Disc weapons.

"Oh, Christ!" Jason hissed. "This guy just can't take a hint."

Jason, Tim, and Damian, all piled on top of Bane, keeping him to the ground. Batgirl stood back, but readied herself with her bo-staff to be a second line of defence if needed.

It was like a game some people played in public schools called Pile-On, where students would pile-on another student for fun. Nightwing didn't know why, he just knew of the game from a student he once talked to about bullying when the kid ran away, his parents frantic to find him. Nightwing just happened to come across him and they sat down and talked. It was one of those moments he was proud of. He wasn't a hero, at that moment, just some guy to talk to. And he was glad he was able to be there.

Then went to his school and had a talk with the bully, a very serious talk.

"Time for a more long time solution," Nightwing then said. He rotated his escrima sticks in his hands, and then activated the voltage setting to Level Five. The highest level was ten. But he didn't want to hurt Bane, only render him unconscious. "When I tell you all, jump off him." Nightwing got ready. " _NOW!_ "

Jason, Tim, and Damian, leapt off, at the same time, then Nightwing plunged the escrima sticks into Bane's ribs. The villain screamed. Then he shorted out Bane's Venom drug generator. The man was big, but without that boost, he was easier to take down.

Bane went to grab Nightwing, but failed. He dropped. This time, it for good.

Damian then took a rope from his utility belt and tied Bane's arms behind his back, then his ankles, making sure, if he did, happen, to awaken again, he would be subdued, and no longer a threat. The old hog-tie.

Jason breathed out a sign of relief, took off his helmet, and the lock of white hair that that normally made him look like a skunk, was dirty and grey from grime and sweat.

"Finally!" Jason said.

"Now, let's go help Bruce," Tim said.

"Yes," Dick said. "He's not answering the comm-link."

Just then, the sound of a helicopter emerged above them, it came out into the open from the rooftop of the recreation centre. It hovered above them. Along with the pilot, Riddler stood at the open compartment hatch, holding onto something inside, and he was smiling. In his other hand was a bullhorn.

"Greetings, _Wingnuts!_ The end is nigh! You may have defeated Bane, but it will do you no good. The building is set to explode within minutes, and I know Batman is inside. Your true identities will remain with me. And when I need to use you to my advantage, or have you look the other way, expect to be blackmailed. Or, everything your mentor has built up over the years will be destroyed! So, I win two-fold! But I am a sporting man. I'll give you a chance to save Batman. Solve a riddle, and save his life. Make your decision!"

Nightwing wasn't sure what to do, but Riddler had them at his mercy.

"Hey, Nygma!" Jason suddenly shouted up, hands cupped around his mouth. "I have a riddle for you. Being the smart guy you are, it should be easily for you. Ready?"

Riddler paused, he looked to be mulling it over. To Nygma, a riddle was gold, and he couldn't pass up a chance to appear holier-than-thou when it came to being their master.

He said, "Fine, but make it quick. I'll indulge your attempt to appease my intelligence before Batman gets blown to bits! Tell me your riddle, Jason Todd. But make it good!"

"Jason, there's no time for this," Batgirl said. "We need to go help Bruce and disarm the explosives Riddler has planted inside the facility."

"Trust me, this will be worth it. I have a plan, Barbara." Jason winked. Everyone saw it.

The sound of the helicopter filled the air, but suddenly, Riddler looked back, made some sort of hand signal, Nightwing saw, and just then, as the helicopter hovered, it went to whisper mood. Most likely Riddler wished to hear the riddle without hinderance.

"Well," Nygma said, "I'm waiting, Jason Todd. Recite your ever so stumper of a riddle that will astound me!"

Jason cleared his throat, then said, "What did the crooked gambler do when he had a Full-House?"

Riddler smirked. "Oh, please," he said, "that's child-play. He folded. He knew he would cheated."

"Exactly! And our Five-of-a-Kind beats your Full-House!"

Jason reached into his holsters, snatched his guns, and fired at the helicopter. Riddler's eyes widened, shocked, and he held on as the bullets hit and ricocheted off the metal plating of the helicopter. Suddenly, the pilot cried out, and then collapsed on the controls. He had been hit. And so was the engine.

The helicopter began to plummet and everyone scattered out of the way of its impeding doom. But Nygma jumped and rolled away from the helicopter before it came down with a heavy thud, yet it did not explode. But all the propellers snapped. Nightwing hugged the ground, stayed focused. He hoped Jason haven't killed the pilot. He could be very reckless sometimes. The helicopter could have exploded and taken everything with it.

Nygma got to the hands and knees, looked up. He was surrounded by Five-of-a-Kind, the children of the Bat, that just beat his Full-House—-the hand he thought that would win it all for him.

"Rats, I hate poker!" Riddler spat.

Nightwing pressed the button to his escrima sticks for intimidation. "Give it up, Nygma, you're beaten! Now, tell us how to disarm those explosives."

Riddler laughed. "Oh, you do yourself credit, Richard Grayson, just as witty and facetious as ever. Nothing about this is victorious for you. You may have shot down my helicopter, but I still know all your identities."

Damian went over like he was on a death mission, grabbed Riddler by his jacket lapels, hauled him up face-to-face. "I'll ask you once, you sadistic POS! Where are the explosives and how to we disarm them? _Tell me!_ "

Nygma smiled, said nothing. Damian then delivered a vicious head-butt to the villain's face. Nygma went limp in Damian's hands, he looked surprised. "I didn't hit him that hard," he said. He dropped Nygma to the ground. He was unconscious.

"Oh, great! Nice work, shortstack!" Jason said. "How will we find those explosives now?"

Tim picked something up, a computer tablet. It had been noticed near Riddler when he jumped out of the helicopter just before it crashed. He must have dropped it when he landed, been in his pocket. The screen was cracked and unuseable, but Tim removed a cord from a pouch on his utility belt, plugged it into a USB port in the tablet, and the other end into his arm gauntlet that housed his mini-3D project computer unit. Luckily, the hard drive had not been damaged in the fall and he was able to bring up content.

Tim brought up a map of where each explosive was housed, Nightwing witnessed standing next to Tim, and then deactivated each with a touch of button on his gauntlet.

"Excellent work, Tim!" Nightwing said pleased.

"Thanks, easy as building your own computer," Tim said.

"I wouldn't know," Nightwing said. But then he heard something, and looked at Riddler. He heard laughter. He was face down, but it unmistakable. Edward Nygma was laughing. He went over to the villain, lifted him up. "And what's so funny, Riddler? Your bombs are now disarmed. Why are you laughing?"

"I must have hit him harder than I thought," Damian remarked. "He's laughing like the Joker."

"No, little one," Nygma said. "I'm thrilled. I want to be awake for the endgame and one final riddle for you all. Only Batman has been privy to it yet, but you'll all soon find out what it is."

"And that would be?" Batman suddenly said, as he emerged from the opening that Bane had made in the wall. He had some red spatters on his suit, but he was none the worse for wear. Most of the red was on his cape. As if he had used it to shield himself from something.

Nightwing knew what it was, it was unmistakable. It was blood.

Nygma gasped. He had the look of a person who had just seen a ghost. "But…how? How are you still alive? Crane assured me his plan would be the end of you! A sure proof plan to eliminate you once and for all!"

"That's the thing with 'full-proof-plans', Riddler," Batman said, "they rarely are foolproof. They say fools rush in, and I think Crane rushed with Adam Nichols' experimental technology. It would appear that Nichols died with a key element he failed to pass on, and it blew up in Crane's face."

Nygma gasped. "You don't mean—"

"Here's a riddle for you, Nygma," Batman began. "What do you get when you pump too much air into a balloon?"

But it was riddle or rather a question that didn't need an answer. Everyone knew the answer. Batman told everyone what happened, and they were all shocked. Nightwing imagined the scene and he felt ill.

"All those people," Nightwing sympathized.

Batman nodded. "And Crane is so traumatized by it, that he's currently muttering to himself, as he's covered in blood and entrails. He'll need therapy."  
Damian cupped his hips. "That's the understatement of the year," he said sarcastically.

"I'll call the Gotham City HASMAT team when we're done here," Tim said. "As for Riddler…" He retrieved a small spray bottle from his utility belt, and sprayed Nygma with some of his special memory erasure drug directly in his face, and it knocked him out cold. "He won't remember a thing about this caper, or our identities. I'll do the same to Bane and Crane. To forget what happened in there, will be a blessing to Crane. For once, he'll actually be contributing to helping himself get better." ( _ref: to my story: Carnival of Tricks_ )

Riddler was unconscious, but things weren't over. Suddenly Jason pointed a gun to Edward Nygma's head.

"Jason! Stop! What the hell are you doing?" Batgirl demanded.

"Eliminating a liability, Barbara," Jason said with all seriousness. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. Just sending them to Arkham isn't good enough. It's time we put a permanent end to the Rogues, starting with Riddler. The only good Rogue is a dead one!"

"Jason! No!" Batman said firmly. "If you do this, I'll send you to Arkham myself, again!"

Jason poised the gun at Riddler's head. His form statuesque. If he pulled the trigger, Edward Nygma would not even feel it, being unconscious.

But then he crooked his arm up, holstered his gun.

"In the immortal words of Aretha Franklin: _R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Find out what it means to me_. Well, someone's, anyway." Jason turned and smiled. "Just kidding, but the looks on your faces were priceless and worth all the gold bars in the Gotham City Bank."

Nightwing seethed under his breath, said, "Not funny, Jay. Not in the slightest!"

"Permission to kick the living crap out of Todd, Father," Damian said irascible, punching a hand into a fist.

"I get first dibs, Damian," Nightwing said, just as irate. "I'm the oldest."

"I also want a shot," Tim said.

Jason put up his hands in submission, looked around. Nightwing saw everyone was pissed.

"Did I go too far?" Jason said, a tinge of regret in his voice.

Batman was silent, but Nightwing knew he was disappointed.

Barbara smirked, Dick saw. Then she went to stand next to Jason. Jason turned to her. " _Just a little bit,_ " she said, pinching a forefinger and thumb nearly together. " _Just a little bit._ "

_To be continued..._

 


	16. From Beginning To End

Sirens could be heard in the cityscape background.

Whether they were for the incident that happened at the old recreation centre or something else, eventually the police would arrive to see what had taken place, why the helicopter had crashed. There would be many questions.

But in Gotham City, sirens are a normal occurrence. It was a city of crime and home of the Batman.

No one from the Batfamily had called just yet, Red Robin was going to, as well for the HASMAT team to clean up the grotesque mess inside, but they wanted to make sure all the criminals involved in this caper had their memories erased, especially of one important detail and secret: the secret identities of each of the Batfamily members, for which both Scarecrow and Riddler had learned.

Strangely enough, what happened inside the recreational centre did not faze Batman. He had seen so much in his long crime-fighting career that bodies exploding from too much pressure had desensitized him.

All three villains were dragged together and piled on top of each other, Bane took some elbow grease and manpower, because he was heavier than Riddler and Crane combined, a massive dead-weight.

"Phew!" Red Robin said. "Now that was a workout. Once this gas completely runs through their synaptic membranes, my memory eraser spray will have them completely forget about this caper."

"Excellent!" Jason said. "Maybe we should market that stuff, Timbo, as a cure for hangovers. We'd make a bloody fortune, and we wouldn't have to rely on our allowance from Daddy-dearest."

"You don't get an allowance, Jason," Bruce said flatly.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. I think I should, since you keep on arresting my clients when it comes to arm sales. You're hitting my bottomline."

"I'll hit you below the belt, if you want?" Damian griped. "Maybe we can all take some of this memory erasure stuff and forget that you even existed, Todd."

"Go back to the Lollipop Guild, munchkin," Jason retorted. "I don't need a drug to make you forget about me, it would be a pleasure to just whack you across the head with one of my guns."

Nightwing stepped in between them, putting his hands on each of their chest to hold them back. "Let's not act like our catch," he said. "We're supposed to be better than the criminals we hunt."

"Speak for yourself, Grayson," Damian said. "I'm better than them all of time!"

"Spoken like a true psychopath," Jason remarked.

"You're one to talk!"

Tim grumbled under his breath, then said, "So, now what? Do we just wait for the police to arrive, or head home? I could use a little R&R, no pun intended…" —he stretched his arms, yawned— "…and a little shut-eye. Even us Night owls need our sleep."

"At least that's something we can both agree on, Drake," Damian said.

"You guys deserve it after everything you've been through," Nightwing said.

"But first," Batman began, "you two are going to go through a thorough medical check-up and a psychiatric evaluation."

Tim awww'd, and Damian protested.

"I think, if you ask me, Damian is mentally ill," Jason quipped. "Not even Hugo Strange would able to help him."

Damian growled and sneered at Jason.

Nightwing was still between them, held him back. He was reminded of that time when he teamed up with both Damian and Roy Harper on a mission, and they kept getting into arguments, he having to be the referee.

"I agree with Bruce," Dick said. "A little probe, a little prick, a little blood on a stick, then you'll be fit as a fiddle, and ready to solve another riddle."

Everyone groaned at the attempt at levity and Nightwing shrugged indifferently.

"If I have to go through a psychiatric evaluation, then I want Grayson to go through one, too," Damian demanded.

Nightwing shrugged. "Hey, all I said was true," he said. "Just don't allow Alfred to use 'the Machine', right Jay?"

Jason suddenly shivered. "Oh, god, I remember that, it was horrible. Gave me nightmares."

"What's 'the Machine's?" Drake asked. Nightwing had both Drake and Damian's attention. Batgirl smirked, but they didn't see it. Nightwing did.

"Okay, enough," Batman said, ending the obvious attempt at humour, and scare tactics. But that was Nightwing's way to brake the tension. "Damian," he said seriously, "you were reckless climbing that rope, and got caught by Bane, at Adam Nichols first facility," he chided.

"That's not fair!" Damian protested. "Why am I getting chewed out? What about Drake? I wasn't there, but I bet Drake let his emotions get the better of him again, and in some fruitless attempt, got caught with his pants down when he was captured by Bane and Riddler, and brought to Nichols secondary site. Am I right?"

"That's right, you weren't _there_ ," Tim rebuked. "You had already been captured by Riddler, in a stupid attempt at bravado. And no, Bane attacked me, broke my Bo-staff, then I was grabbed, and held in a bear hug. Do you know how tight Bane can squeeze? If I didn't have this muscle, he would have turned my bones to dust."

"You know, I think after the medical check up and psyche eval, Tim should be able to enjoy some rest and relaxation, while Damian spends two weeks thinking of what he's done," Nightwing said.

"Grounded?" Damian said. "I'm not a kid!"

Tim said, "I think I like that idea."

"I really hate you both and I wish a vile circumstance on each of you!"

"I know you don't really mean that, Little D," Dick said with humour.

"Don't call me that, ever!"

Dick laughed.

Jason went to his motorcycle and mounted it. "Hey guys, this has been great fun, a wonderful family gathering, and just like old times," he said. "Maybe we should all do this again, have a picnic, eat egg sandwiches and lemonade." The sarcastic condemnation to everyone oozed out of him. He put on his helmet. "Gotta go, the GCPD don't particularly like me much. You know, all that shooting and property damage, typical anti-hero crap."

Batgirl went over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Jason, you're a hero, and you're always be one; and you'll always be a member of this family, no matter what happens."

"Even if I go on some sort of rampage after some Rogue kills my friends, or something? You never know what will have in the future. Will I still be welcome in the family?"

No one knew what to say to that.

"Thought so," Jason said, then revved up his motorcycle. He sped off, just as four police cruisers pulled up their position.

Commissioner Gordon was with them, he was Barbara Gordon's father, and he knew his daughter was Batgirl, and he knew how to keep a secret.

Commissioner Gordon was a detective and an excellent one. It was a little rough around the edges, and spoke a little gruff, but he accepted his daughters role as member of the Batfamily. Mainly because he didn't have a choice. He also knew of his daughters relationship with Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing. They began a relationship when they were younger, when he was Robin, and it continued from there, off and on. Now, more serious.

Batman told Commissioner Gordon everything, and told the GCPD to cross-reference old Rogue crimes that could be linked back to Adam Nichols financing of Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow and the Joker, in their most recent capers.

But when it came time to show Commissioner Gordon the carnage inside, telling him that that a HASMAT team would be needed for clean up, and showing him…

Commissioner Gordon vomited involuntarily.

x x x

After everything was reported to the GCPD, the HASMAT team, and forensics, Batman left with Tim and Damian in the Batmobile. Nightwing said he would make his own way back with Batgirl.

Barbara secretly said good bye to her father, and then left with Dick Grayson/Nightwing, shooting a tether line into the air, and swinging away.

Commissioner Gordon gave Nightwing a hard look just before he left, as if to scold him, to say if anything happened to her, he would ring his neck. There were few people that truly scared Dick Grayson, Jim Gordon was one of them. But he assured the Commissioner with a light smile and salute that she would be in good hands.

They reached Barbara's apartment, and then both undressed, and showered, together. They soaped each other down and had a little fun, deservingly, after everything that had gone down. And it was a helped relieved the tension of the day. From the shower, they went to bed, and made love.

In the morning, as the sun began to crept up over the horizon, Dick was the first to rise, and he checked his phone messages, as Barbara slept soundly beside him. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

Tim had sent him a series of text messages, but he never saw them until now because he had put his phone on silent. They told him that the GCPD now knew everything regarding Adam Nichols' past activities, and whom he had brainwashed from records found, but without a trigger phrase, none of the programming would flourish.

_That's awesome news!_ He told himself.

Riddler, Bane, and Crane, didn't remember anything about the caper. Tim's memory erasure gas had erased everything about what had happened from their minds, with a little subliminal programming of his own, including any knowledge of the Batfamily's true identities.

_Double awesome!_ Dick thought cheerfully.

Dick just had one last thing to put to rest. He was in the mood for—

Then he saw Barbara looking at him, and smiled.

"Good morning, lover," Babs said to him, warmly, putting a hand on his chest. "Is everything okay?"

He smiled broadly. "Everything is all right in the world, now, my shining ray of beauty," he said. "Did anyone ever tell you, you look your most sexiest in the morning" —he winked— "next to me, of course."

She smiled.

He then told her about Tim's text messages.

Then he said, "You know what, I have this overwhelming desire to read some erotic fan fiction. You wouldn't know an author you'd recommend, say, with a James Bond kind of style?"

Barbara smiled. She had once been barred from the Batcave, and locked out of the Batcomputer, for writing, and leaving erotic fan fiction for Dick. The main character had a flare for the dramatic and a talent for espionage, much like Dick had been when was Agent 37 in Spyral.

But, strangely, her writings came before all that Spyral business happened.

Selina Kyle, Catwoman, also left some erotic fan fiction for Bruce, for which Damian managed to find, and read. It was so steamy that Damian and Dick had to have a private talk about the birds and the batboys.

"Yeah, I think I know someone," Barbara said sexily. "But only if you say please."

Dick Grayson said please with his mouth.

And together, they made their own story. Non-fiction.

END

* * *

_(This hence concludes the saga of stories I began with 'Written Fantasies', then continued with 'A Matter of Trust', 'The Secret of Jason Todd', 'Carnival of Tricks', Pride of a Superhero', 'Impulsive Behaviour', and 'Joker's Folly'. Thanks for the ride!)_

 


End file.
